Gods and Monsters
by WhisperingZephyr
Summary: You win some, you lose some, and occasionally you sorta kill some.
1. Coping with the Kurse

_**Ok, my first fic, and I've decided to hop aboard the whole "Kursed" bandwagon. Here goes nothin'. Based loosly after the 4th ending of SF Command. Positive feedback and constructed criticism is greatly appreciated. **_

_**Rated M for language, violence, and ear sex... ok, I made that last part up, but it does have language and violence.**_

_**Starfox and its associated characters belong to Nintendo; I DO NOT OWN STARFOX.**_

**--**

Space… the great void… the dark abyss… the last frontier…

Whatever the hell you wish to call it, space almost completely surrounded the lonesome fighter craft as it gradually floated towards the tiny sphere of blue and green that lay before it.

_God damn it. God damn HIM._

The pilot of the craft slammed her blue-furred fists down on the control panel of her fighter.

"**Nova bomb, prepared for launch.**" The automated voice of the Cloudrunner Fighter chimed in.

"No! SHIT! Damn it, NO!!" The panicked vixen scanned her vision over the dashboard, quickly finding her quarry and pressing down upon a series of buttons.

"**Nova bomb launch aborted**."

With a quick sigh of relief, the vixen laid her head back into the back of her chair. Sitting in silence for a long moment, she slowly pulled several strands of violet hair out of her eyes.

"Really… nice one there, Kursed." The vixen softly spoke to herself.

_Kursed… probably the most appropriate title I've ever seen… shit, look at you. Your old life was utterly destroyed, and most everyone in the known galaxy despises you. You promised yourself never to return again, that the old Krystal was dead, and look where you are now!_

"**Approaching planet Sauria. ETA: 10 minutes**." The shipboard computer mercilessly punctured Kursed's bubble of thought. The vixen let out a long, agonized sigh.

"Why am I doing this? Why here of all places? I… I can't do this… not with all the memories…"

_No. You have to do this. You have to prove to yourself once and for all that you are Kursed. _Her inner monologue suddenly interrupted. _This place only holds memories for Krystal, not Kursed. Krystal is dead. Do you hear me? KRYSTAL IS DEAD!!_

… _And Fox Mccloud killed her…_

--

"_YOU WHORE!!"_

_From somewhere in the crowd flew a glass bottle, barely passing over Krystal's head as she tried to make her way into the Cornerian military barracks, which housed her and her new comrades: the Starwolf Team._

"_Who threw that??" She turned to face the angry mob that had been following her for the last several blocks._

"_WE DID, YOU TRATOROUS BITCH!!" Came the ever-so-polite response from the crowd, followed quickly by brick as it trailed its path through one of the glass windows of the barracks. _

_As the mob closed in around the building, a single shot rang out into the air. Krystal turned to find her new boss, Wolf O'Donnel, standing in the doorway, his bladed pistol aiming into the sky._

" _I think it's about time y'all headed on home…" He shouted, lowering his pistol and scanning it along the crowd. With a barrage of grumbles and last-minute insults, the now-pacified mob grudgingly complied._

"_Mccloud is behind this… I know he is!" The azure vixen exclaimed as they both entered though the doorway of the building._

"_Krystal, this is the third time this week that you've come home with a hornet's nest on your tail. I think we both know whose fault that is…" The disgruntled lupine replied, his good eye showing his frustration with his teammate's resounding lack of current popularity._

"_Exactly, so why don't you go prep the ships, and we'll go find the bast-"_

"… _And it ain't Mccloud." At these last words Krystal promptly spun around to angrily face her lupine squad-leader._

"_What the hell are you trying to say, Wolf?"_

"_I'm sayin' that I'm sick and tired of every time something pops up, you wanna take it as an excuse to push this little vendetta of yours against Fox." Their two squad-mates walked into the dark hallway and stood adjacent to their lupine leader. _

_"I'm also sayin' that, as you probably haven't noticed, Leon, Panther and I are tryin' to turn Starwolf from a bunch of backwater thugs into something we can be proud of. And all this negative publicity you're bringing in ain't helping one bit."_

"_P-Panther… you're not just going to stand there and let this happen, are you?" The azure vixen looked nervously towards her feline wing mate, searching for support._

"_No, Krystal, I think I have a question for you: How stupid do you think I am?" Came the velvety reply._

"_W-what??"_

"_I said, how stupid do you think I am, not to have noticed that this whole time you've been using me as a tool in your petty little Crusade against Fox? Come to think of it, when was the last time you ever kissed me?"_

"_FINE. You want a kiss? Then here…" As Krystal tried to move her face closer to Panther's, a voice called out from the back of the darkened hallway._

"_Get 'yer filthy mouth the away from my man, bitch."_

_The vixen turned to see a feminine, feline shape make her way out of the darkness and into the arms of the larger feline. Almost instantly, Krystal recognized the face from her short time with the Cornerian Defense Force._

"_Miyu??" _

"_Turns out, Krystal, that I've finally found someone who likes me for who I am… not for how jealous I make their ex…" Spoke the dark-furred feline, quickly followed by a quick peck on the cheek from his stripped, female counterpart._

"_Y-you… b-but…" Stumbled the vixen, unable to find footing in this conversation._

"_Krystal, we think it's time for you to leave. Your Cloudrunner is out back and all warmed up for you. Get out."_

"_Yeah…" hissed Leon, finally getting his two cents into this conversation, " Who knows? Maybe Mccloud will take you back, and together you two can join P.A.W.: The Planetary Association of Weaklings!!"_

_An unnerving silence settled over the group, as they all slowly turned their heads towards their Chameleon colleague and his odd comment. Somewhere nearby, a cricket lay silent, unwilling to move it's legs for such an pitiful remark._

"_Fine. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. FUCK YOU ALL!!" The vixen shouted as she stormed out the back of the barracks towards he waiting ship._

_Starwolf watched, as it's now-former member as her ship lifted off from the landing pad and sped into the night sky. After a few moments of silence, the leader of the group turned to face his reptilian compatriot, a look of shear confusion and disapproval evident upon his face._

"_P.A.W.??" _

_--_

"**Entering Planet Sauria Atmosphere**." The automated voice of the ship once again ripped Kursed from her thoughts.

"Ok, Kursed, you have to do this. If not for yourself, then for the money." The vixen's memory trailed back to when she first received word of this particular bounty. Her eyes had widened when she had first seen the six-digit reward, and had then promptly shrunken as she read through the words "Presumed location: Planet Sauria, Lylat System."

The Krazoa Palace to be exact. Apparently, this particular target was some big-time weapons and illegal-antiquities dealer... and was reported to have a small army of thugs hiding out with her.

"This isn't going to be easy…" The vixen spoke to herself.

_Then again… nothing ever is…_

The fighter-craft swooped down through the clouds, eventually breaking though the overcast and soaring high above a mountain range below. The vixen soon spotted her quarry: a large temple complex built into the side of a mountain, and veiled behind a shroud of fog. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to shut out the flood of memories that came bearing down on her at the site of this structure.

_Damn it, we've already been over this. You aren't her anymore. You're Kursed. This place holds no meaning for you; it's just another contract._

"**Warning. Abnormal energy levels detected**."

"Go figure…" Sighed the azure bounty hunter. "Should have known they'd have set up a defense grid..."

**Heh ha, almost correct, little Cerinian.**

"Who the hell said that??" Kursed's eyes widened that the mysterious voice intruding upon her mind. She had little time to dwell upon this, as yet another voice assaulted her psyche.

"**Warning. High-powered energy pulse detected. Estimated impact in four seconds**."

"What?! Oh, sh-" Kursed swore as she pulled hard upon the controls of the fighter, causing the craft to bank violently to the left. Too little, too late, she soon realized as an intense teal beam of light seared its way through her right wing and into the rear of her fuselage.

"MAYDAY!! MAYDAY!!" Kursed screamed into her com link, asking herself in the back of her mind just who it was she was trying to call to; there was no-one out there but herself. The enormous stone structure of the Krazoa palace loomed ominously before her.

_Ok, ok… don't panic. I'm close enough… I think I could land on one of those big platforms on the sides, just like I…_

Kursed instantly recoiled at her own thoughts.

… _Just like SHE did before…_

The azure vixen struggled with the controls as her maimed little fighter limped towards the enigmatic temple before it.


	2. Under New Management

_Ok, people, thanks for the reviews. Sorry that it's been a while since I last updated, but I'm somewhat of a slow writer. Anyway, I'm uping the ante in terms of action with this chapter. Please comment if there is anything that you feel needs correcting._

_Starfox is copyright of Nintendo._

--

Bellowing fire and smoke, the now single-winged fighter limped its way towards the massive structure before it.

"C'mon… c'mon… just a little further…" Kursed quietly begged to the badly damaged Cloud-runner. As the craft's erratic flight neared closer to the large, open deck, it's azure pilot quickly pressed a series of button upon its control board.

_Please work… Please work…_

"**Warning. Malfunction detected in Starboard landing gear."**

"Yeah? Well no shit!" Kursed retorted to the computer, noting the now-empty space, which was, just a short time ago, the right wing of her fighter.

With what may have been its last bit of strength, the Cloud-runner hovered onto the large, metal platform and, with a distinctive deficiency of grace, collapsed upon the ground. The lack of its right landing extension caused it to awkwardly lean to the side, further ruining its chances of a dignified landing.

Kursed let her head fall back into her now slanted seat, closing her eyes, and releasing a long sigh of relief. After a few moments, worry reentered into her psyche.

"Great. How the fuck am I supposed to get home now?" She mumbled aloud to herself. The answer to this supposedly rhetorical question embodied itself as a single, damning statement that seemed to float from outside her own mind.

**Silly little girl, have you forgotten? You don't have a home.**

Kursed's eyelids snapped wide open as her mind was yet again assailed by this mysterious influence. With ever increasing panic, Kursed hurriedly opened the cockpit hatch of the Cloud-runner. Quickly grabbing the large pistol she kept next to her seat, Kursed hopped out over the side and took cover behind her devastated fighter.

"Ok, Kursed… you're hearing shit. That's all. You're just hallucinating a little bit… probably from all the stress you're under… you can buy pills for that when you get back…" The vixen consoled herself as she leaned against the mortally wounded Cloud-Runner.

**My dear, that will not help...**

Kursed slapped a hand over her muzzle, muffling a scream. She felt herself beginning to pant heavily, and strengthened the grip on her weapon. There was something about that voice. Something ominous. It was not deep or menacing, but rather… almost ethereal and disturbingly calm. It's tone, however, was ambiguously malicious. Kursed couldn't understand why, but its words seemed to bypass all of her well-honed mental defenses, leaving a trail of fear and dread within its wake. There was something wicked surrounding her… and Kursed could feel it.

"W…wh…who the fuck are you?" The azure bounty hunter muttered, completely oblivious to the fact that her arms were now trembling lightly, and that her fingers were growing numb from her death grip upon the pistol.

**Who am I? Oh, little Cerinian, that is but a moot point. I believe a better query would be: Who are YOU?**

"W-what the fuck's that supposed to mean?" Kursed spit back, her fear slightly giving way to rage at the vagueness of this disembodied voice.

**My dear, all sentient beings are prone to asking themselves such questions as "Who am I?" "What am I?" or "Why am I here?" And each time, they are never truly satisfied with the answer…**

"Well, thanks for the fucking philosophy lesson, but what does it have to do with you fucking around in my mind?! What do you want with me?!" The azure vixen screamed her discomfort towards the heavens, the shaking in her arms having diminished, but not subsided.

**All in good time, sweet child… all in good time; But right now, I believe you have a task at hand, which must be presided over. Farewell for now, precious…**

The echoing words faded out of Kursed's psyche, along with the feelings of a malevolent presence. Her heavy breathing finally began to lighten. Silence surrounded her for several moments, but to the now thoroughly shaken bounty hunter, they seemed like an eternity.

"Ok…" Kursed mumbled to herself after a few more elongated moments of quiet, "it's final… I'm definitely going on meds after this…"

_Not like I didn't need them before…_

The azure bounty hunter climbed back into the cockpit of her fighter, mulling around for the rest of her gear. As she reached down into one of the compartments, her hand brushed over something long, metallic, and very familiar: her old staff.

Kursed cringed as she fought back the flood of memories, but a sudden self-realization cut short any resulting melodrama.

_You know what? Fuck it. Those aren't my memories. Not anymore._

The vixen quickly removed the golden heirloom from its compartment and attached it to her utility belt, careful not to lay her sight upon it for too long, least she bring up feelings of nostalgia.

The azure bounty hunter rounded up what few other items she sought, including four flash-bang grenades, a small medical kit, and a pair of handcuffs (despite the fact she knew she wouldn't need them). Almost as an after thought, she grabbed two extra charges for her semi-legally modified pistol, and a portable cloaking device. Kursed hopped out of her fighter and made her way towards the inside of the huge, stone structure.

A thick, frigid fog enveloped the Palace, shrouding its outer platforms, and seeping into its halls and antechambers. Kursed had been too busy to notice it from the air, but there was something... awry about the place. The last time she had visited, the massive temple had possessed an air of arcane and long-lost power. But now… the citadel seemed to give off a new aura… one of transcendence… and authority.

Kursed gave off a small shiver. Despite the fact that her outfit was somewhat less scantily than what she had worn on her previous visit, it still offered little to no protection from the icy mist that flowed throughout the structure.

_Sleeveless leather brassiere… great fuckin' idea…_

As the azure vixen entered into a dimly lit corridor, she raised her head and laid her eyes upon something that instantly piqued her interest: the various symbols and patterns that adorned the walls now radiated a faint cyan glow. Her gut feelings had been confirmed: something was different about the once-faded temple.

Kursed entered into one of the structure's many antechambers, her attention completely held by the florescent markings, until she absentmindedly stumbled over something upon the ground. The body of a heavily-armored Cornerian, a Doberman, to be exact, lay sprawled upon the stone floor, with his blaster rifle sill clutched within his right hand, and a scream of sheer terror permanently imprinted upon his face. Kursed's eyes shifted to the bowling ball-sized void that had been blasted into his chest, completely piercing both the back and front of his armor.

Almost instantly, the azure bounty hunter's hand flew to her holster, instinctively drawing her own pistol. A second later she noticed at least a dozen other corpses strewn about the room, all having apparently suffered a demise similar to that of the hapless canine at her feet. Obviously, someone or something had not taken great liking towards the small army of thugs...

A feeling in her gut told Kursed to head back to her ship and leave with distinct zeal, but an interruption from that pesky logical center of her mind reminded her of the Cloud-runner's crippled state. She had no other option; there was no "quit and leave", not this time…

_I should have done this when I first got here…_

Kursed closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, a technique she had not employed since she left system all those years ago...

Through the stone and fog, she could sense the presents of several minds, all gripped by almost complete fear and panic. At the same time, there was something else she could barely feel out there… something that felt blank and opaque, almost like looking through a frosted glass wall.

A series of screams and blaster shots suddenly rang out through the dimly lit fog, breaking Kursed out of her trance-like state.

Crouching down, the azure vixen moved as quietly and quickly as she could down the long, eerie corridor towards the commotion in the distance. She eventually found herself outside upon a large metal terrace, which the outlaws had converted into their own personal supply depot, judging from the numerous crates and barrels stacked around its sides.

Kursed's ears perked up slightly as they detected a faint echo of voices coming from beyond the left edge of the platform. Taking cover behind a single, metallic container along the side, the bounty hunter inhaled silently and made a last-second check over her pistol before slowly peeking over the crate to view her adversaries below.

Peering though the mist from her vantage point, Kursed could make out what appeared to be some sort of field communication tower, around which was cluttered various radio equipment and boxes. A small group of at least six armed thugs had taken cover behind the crates, most of their attentions and weapons fixated upon the corridor leading out onto "their" veranda.

"Whiskey Three-One-Niner, this is Hawk's Nest," A single ruffian stood next to the receiver, pleading into the static. "Request immediate extraction from the south-western terrace. Repeat: request immediate extraction from the southwestern terrace. Whiskey Three-One-Niner, do you copy? Over."

"Shit, there she is…Mira!!" One of the canine thugs suddenly stood up from his position and indicated towards the fog-shrouded corridor. Out of the mist strolled a single female golden-retriever, looking as calm and collected as if she were exiting her own home. The gunman whom had first pointed her out ran from his cover to greet her.

"Mirabell, baby, thank god. I thought I'd lost y-" His words were interrupted as the gold-furred canine placed a finger over his lips. A bizarre, blue glow began to radiate from her chest as she suddenly embraced him, kissing deeply. Seconds later, a blinding flash of cyan light enveloped the both of them, incinerating the two completely, and blasting back several of their comrades.

Almost immediately after the flash began to fade, a single beam of violet shot out from the mist-shrouded hallway, impacting one of the few still-standing ruffians and blasting a hole cleanly though his armored torso in a shower of blood and sparks.

His few living comrades quickly sent a torrent of plasma bolts zipping into the thick fogbank, an action which was answered in kind as an additional stream of dark-purple light made its way out of the entrance way and into the helmet of another armored gunman, blowing his head cleanly off and sending his decapitated corpse crumpling to the ground.

From her vantage point, Kursed's eyes detected motion from within the wall of mist. Amidst the continuing volley of blaster fire, a lone, dark silhouette loomed out of the clouded veil, almost oblivious to the firestorm surrounding it. A split-second later, the figure raised a long, pincer-tipped object to its shoulder, and let loose with another series of violet-hued beams.

When eerie silence yet again reclaimed the terrace, the fog parted slightly, revealing the corpses of the half-dozen hapless gunmen. Upon lowering its weapon, the shape within the mist rose to its full stature, towering far above the average height of any race in the Lylat System. Raising its head into the air, the form released a succession of strange, guttural clicking noises, as if hailing its own victory. Kursed could have sworn she'd heard the sounds before, but for the moment, her mind was focused upon the huge, lumbering figure below her, as it moved forward to examine its fallen adversaries.

Something about this being struck a chord of fear within Krystal, instilling her with a sense of anxiety and caution. Unfortunately, Kursed held the metaphorical wheel at the moment, responding in accord with her usual brash contempt.

"Shit… looks like I'm going to have to go through this fucker all by myself…"

As soon as the last syllable left her lips, as if on cue, the shadowy behemoth turned its gaze up towards Kursed's perch, glaring at her with a set of florescent, pearl-white eyes. The figure almost instantly followed by sending up its greeting in the form of another searing violet beam.

Quickly rolling away from the pierced remains of the crate, and thus narrowly avoiding the same gruesome fate as the hapless band of thugs had suffered, Kursed's psyche momentarily abandoned any thought of fighting as she bolted back towards the hallway from whence she came. A second ray penetrated through the wall of boxes, narrowly missing the vixen's face, but passing close enough to scorch a bit of the moist, black skin on the very tip of her muzzle.

Before she could reach the dimmed shelter of the hallway, the mass of crates to her right suddenly erupted, sending metal containers flying in every direction, including the trajectory that at the time happened to house Kursed's upper torso. As she lay dazed upon the ground, a single metallic boot found its way to her chest, pressing down with dominating force. The two prongs of the figure's weapon pressed into her skin, one at the throat, and the other into her cheek. A harsh, almost electronic voice spoke down towards her.

" Jkuko 0eih dumo, jsim."

"Ughh…hhmm... wha?" Came the groggy reply from the momentarily stunned bounty hunter, resulting in the two dull blades driving themselves somewhat further into the flesh of her face.

"A juat, jkuko 0eih dumo. State your name."

Kursed's dazed consciousness searched her memory for a response, finally coming across a title which had always seemed to draw her fancy in the past.

"Krystal Mccloud." She muttered, a small dreamy smile carving itself upon her face.

"Nxuk? Speak up, you're mumbling." Growled the shadowy figure towering over her.

"Umm… I mean, Kursed. My name is Kursed." The azure vixen corrected herself as she regained her composure, feeling a small bit of self-frustration and loathing at her first answer.

As her vision began to focus, the hollow, yet strangely familiar face above her came into view. After a few seconds of recollection, her eyes widened as the memories suddenly became clear to her.

_No way… no fucking way…_


	3. Regulator

_ Damn... almost been an entire month since I last updated. I'm really sorry about that. In my defense, however, I've been pretty busy with my personal life, and this is the longest chapter I've made to date, and possibly the longest there will be in the story. Maybe, maybe not._

_Starfox is Copyright of Nintendo. All other characters are copyright of myself, but I won't fight over them._

--

The gold-plated, stoic mask of a Krazoa stared ominously down upon Kursed, its similarly tinted boot heavily weighing down upon her chest. An expression somewhere between a disappointed frown and a mocking smile lay eternally carved upon its faux-face.

"T-that's fucking impossible… y-you're all nothing but a bunch of spirits… just fucking ghosts…"

"Almost comical, coming from a Cerinian…"

Kursed's countenance shifted slightly towards sadness upon realizing the armored humanoid's meaning. She absolutely despised being reminded of her lot in life; she did that enough herself. Yet, before her mind could slip any further into angst, or her arm could reach to either her staff or pistol, which both lay upon the stone floor nearby, the nearly synthetic intonation again spoke.

"So tell me… Kursed… what is it that brings you to our humble temple?"

As she opened her mouth to utter an answer, the metallic boot upon her chest suddenly lifted, only to be replaced by a large, cold gauntlet that rigidly clenched itself onto her neck. She felt herself being dragged upon the ground, a telltale sign that the previous question had been purely rhetorical. More words from the enigmatic titan confirmed this.

"… For I guarantee… you won't find it here…"

As a sensation of choking arose within her, Kursed struggled for release from the uncompromising clutch around her neck, lashing out with her legs towards the kneecaps of the solemn-faced figure, only to have her foot painfully clang against unyielding metal plating.

As the sting in her ankle began to subside, the vixen grasped her hands around the armored wrist, which seized her neck, attempting to drive her claws within. This attempt in turn met with failure. Panic began to overwhelm her as the choking feeling grew. Kursed reverted to rabidly snapping at the assailing arm, in hopes that she could somehow drive one of her long canines into exposed flesh, despite the apparent lack there of.

The bounty hunter's attempts at freedom from the enigmatic gauntlet were put to an end as the taciturn leviathan nonchalantly introduced the butt of his weapon to the side of her cranium, plunging her yet again into a dazed state.

Everything around her was a blur as Kursed felt the steadfast death grip on her neck give way, dropping her upon the hard stone ground like a rag doll. She staggered to her feet as the world came back into focus for her, only to find herself staring down off the precipice of the palace into a great, misty abyss.

Turning to face her assailant, she discovered that three more shadowy figures had appeared through the haze, and now stood facing her at attention in a single line formation. Through the fog, Kursed could see that these individuals wore substantially less armor than the one that had previously contested her, giving the impression that they were lower ranking than their heavily armored counterpart. The complex, gold-tinted plating that embellished their compatriot only covered over their boots, gauntlets, elbows, knees, and torsos, with some sort of loose, dark, violet-hued fabric covering the rest. In contrast to the solemn, blank expression of the prior's mask, eerie smirks adorned their golden visors.

"Kursed…" Spoke the semi-natural tone as its owner paced up and down the small line of soldiers adjacent to it "… for unlawful trespassing upon Krazoan sacred ground… for willful association with known criminals… and for resisting arrest by a Knight Regulator…"

"B-but… I… I never asso-" The azure vixen cut her own words short.

_Oh yes you have… just not the ones this "Knight Regulator" is talking about. Probably doesn't matter anyway; bet these guys would be just as hostile towards Star Wolf… Wouldn't that just be a fucking hoot?_

Kursed smiled lightly to herself at the mental vision of Wolf, Panther, Leon and Miyu being the ones to get their asses handed to them by a eight-foot tall tin can. She had little time to dwell upon this attractive thought, as the Regulator finished his pacing and turned to face the now thoroughly doomed vixen.

"… You are hereby sentenced to immediate execution. May what little soul you have find peace within the hereafter."

A realization of her situation slammed into Kursed's psyche with force akin to a sledgehammer. A hurricane of thoughts, emotions, and memories swept over her, and within the chaotic plethora, a long suppressed part of her mind suddenly burst free. She tilted her head towards the ground as a soft chuckle escaped her mouth.

"So this is it, then?" She muttered under her breath, directing her words halfway towards herself, and halfway to no one in particular.

_Look at me… six years ago, I was in the arms of the hero of Lylat… bound for a bright future with a happy family… but then everything just… went to hell… and here I am… hated… alone, and about to be shot dead by a bunch of should-be peace spirits… Hasn't my life just been fucking grand?_

"Ujjimo vahadw fejakaedj." Bellowed the almost synthetic voice of the Regulator, upon which words the three other armored beings simultaneously took one step towards Kursed, leaning slightly in her directions, their weapons tilted between her and the ground.

_This… this isn't right… none of this is… it isn't supposed to end like this…_

Tears began to weld up in the eyes of the hapless bounty hunter, before poring out in small streams. All of the events and feelings of the past half-decade had finally caught up with her.

"Houtoo noufedj." The three rifles of the assembled solders now rose towards Kursed in perfect unison.

_I… I was supposed to die an old lady… warm in my bed… surrounded by grandchildren… cuddled next to him… But everything just… went so fucking wrong…_

"Kubo uam."

These words fell unheard upon Kursed's ears as she raised her head towards the dark, omnipotent sky, too caught up within her train of thought to notice anything around her.

"Why? Why did you have to do it, Fox?" The azure bounty hunter whimpered towards the heavens. "Why did you have to go and ruin everything for us?"

Somewhere, from deep with her mind… in a region that belonged to neither Kursed nor Krystal, a damning cognation made itself apparent to her.

_No… he didn't ruin everything… you did. He apologized… and you just walked right over him… you had a chance to go back, and you chose to leave… you helped to dig this grave, and now you must lay in it._

Kursed bowed her head towards the ground, shutting her watery eyes tightly in expectation of the impending doom facing her. The last rays of hope in her mind, imagined or real, had faded.

The steadfast metal hand of the Regulator hovered with the air, awaiting the verbal command from its master that would send it diving downward, simultaneously unleashing the fury of the three riflemen upon the unfortunate vixen. This cue never came, however, as a ghostly, ethereal voice echoed down across the veranda.

"Halt…"

Raising his masked head towards the direction of this edict, the Regulator muttered a greeting towards the luminous, wraithlike presents that gently floated towards them.

"Keeper…" The armored knight quickly motioned towards his underlings to lower their weapons, an order to which they instantly complied.

Meanwhile, Kursed, whom had only been half aware of the events transpiring around her, opened a single eye in search of the assured demise that had been previously awaiting her. Instead of a masked firing squad, however, she found a familiar looking ghostly entity hovering less than a foot away from her face. An echo-filled voice seemed flow into her mind both though her ears and by means unknown.

"Do not fear… raise your head… and let me see your eyes…"

Kursed slowly lifted her gaze toward the ethereal form before her, trying to wipe all evidence of tears from her eyes. After staring into the face of the now not-so-hapless vixen for several moments, the squid-like phantom quickly glided its way back to the metallic presents of the Regulator, floating gently around his masked helm.

"This one… is marked… but…" The ethereal shade whispered within the ear of its armored counterpart, "…tainted… take her… to Dolus…"

With that, the shimmering spirit promptly retreated back into the bowels of the massive temple. Without missing a beat, the Regulator turned his attention towards his three nearby comrades, signaling in the direction of the adjacent veranda, which housed the group of now-thoroughly deceased bandits.

As the azure bounty hunter's gaze yet again rested towards the ground, the cold gauntlet of the Regulator once more took a hold of her, this time gently tugging upon her arm and lightly launching her several feet forward. Angered by the apparent lack of tactful grace, Kursed turned to face the metal titan whom had so rudely tossed her about.

"Don't ever fucking touch me." Growled the vixen, whom was promptly answered via the two-pronged tip of the rifle returning to her face, and a single word.

"Walk."

Kursed's initial response to this was halted as a back section of her psyche informed her that it would be unwise to push her luck with this "Knight Regulator"; He already seemed unhappy (or as close as he could appear to unhappy, given the golden visor which constantly masked his face) at the last minute cancellation of the execution. Or perhaps that was all in Kursed's mind, and the metal titan didn't care one way or another. Her inability to peer into the mind of the stoic Krazoa caused her a great deal of frustration.

_Must be that fucking mask… why the hell do they wear those damn things anyway? _

The azure vixen pondered this query to herself as she was led down corridor after dimly lit corridor, occasionally passing a column of more of the gold plated soldiers on their way to another section of the structure. Eventually, she found herself yet again passing though another of the large, outdoor terraces. Unlike the previous platforms, several guards stood around the veranda in different spots, and a small obelisk sat along the edge, covered in glowing patterns and symbols similar to the ones Kursed had encountered earlier in the hallway. Just above the top of the totem floated a large stone sphere, perfectly polished and carved into the likeness of an eyeball. Nearby lay a small pile of crates along with a radio, leftover from the thugs' short-lived occupancy. The radio instantly flickered to life as static-filled signal made its way out of the thick fogbank.

"Hawk's Nest, this is Whiskey Three-One-Niner. Does anyone copy, over? Repeat, this is Whiskey Three-One-Niner. Does anyone co-" The pilot was abruptly cut short as the levitating stone eye pivoted towards a point in the haze and let loose a massive beam of teal light. A sudden flash deep in the fogbank both confirmed that the beam had met its intended target, and revealed to Kursed what had so generously removed the wing of her Cloud Runner.

Continuing on through another series of hallways, the motley duo eventually walked out into the main chamber of the palace. Where once hovered a flotilla of air vents now shimmered a single beam of light running vertically next to the end of the hallway. Kursed hesitated on the edge overlooking the foyer, but this brief pause was quickly ended as the cold metal hand of the armored knight yet again intervened upon her physical position, violently nudging her into the serine column of light.

To her great surprise, the azure vixen found herself not plummeting towards her death, but floating still upon empty air and light, as if supported by some invisible platform. Her short episode of shock was quickly ended as the Regulator nonchalantly stepped onto supposedly empty space alongside her, causing them both to begin slowly ascending upward. Kursed slowly rose to the position that she assumed was standing. As the novelty of literally walking upon air began to wear off in her mind, she became aware of faint chanting emanating from somewhere within the massive tower. This gentle singing had a peculiar effect upon the azure bounty hunter as it echoed into her ear; simultaneously calming her agitated mind, whilst leaving a distinct air of enigma in its wake. The icy side of the vixen's mind instinctively tried to repress this feeling of curiosity behind her own mask of cold indifference, despite the obvious signs of inquisitiveness which occasionally shown through her dark glare.

Across the expansion of the tower, Kursed spotted another column of light appear as a small group of masked soldiers marched out into empty space, maintaining their formation, and slowly began to descend towards their desired level. Her curiosity yet again leaked through her veil of artificial abhorrence upon watching these maneuvering warriors. During her short stint with the Cornerian military, she had on many occasions observed CDF soldiers marching in unison, but the spectacle before her was something very different. In the CDF, they would always march as uniform as possible, almost robotically, each soldier repeating a well-rehearsed movement as well as they could for fear of invoking the wrath of the nearby drill sergeant. This flight of Krazoa, however, marched in a way that, individually, would have appeared to be nothing more than a natural walk only guided by the personal whims of that single warrior. In this case, however, these impulses were identical to the impulses of the adjacent soldiers, thus creating an eerie illusion of several mirrored images.

As their slow ascent came towards its end at the entrance of yet another long hallway, Kursed took it upon herself to quickly exit this "anti-grav" elevator of sorts; perhaps a bit too quickly, as the muzzle of the Regulator's weapon yet again found it's way into her back.

_Ok… bad idea…_

Realizing her mistake, the bounty hunter slowly raised her arms to her head and cautiously began to walk forward until the rifle removed itself from her spine.

Kursed continued her forced stroll down the lengthy, stone corridor, the Regulator shadowing her footsteps, producing disturbingly little sound for an eight-foot, metal-clad knight. This protracted period of silence made Kursed uneasy, not for the lack of conversation, but because of the lack of conversation despite the presence of another. Truth be told, the azure vixen had spent the better part of the last six years in solitary quietness, occasionally interrupted by brief interaction with her numerous clients and limited dialogue with a shady, yet oddly friendly arms dealer, whom was the closest thing she still possessed to a friend. If only things had been different… then she could maybe… just maybe… be able to talk with Lucy…

_NO! Stop it…how many time must I fucking tell you: this is a different life now…_

The uncomfortable silence began to affect the blue-hued bounty hunter, slowly causing her mind to be dragged, kicking and clawing, back into her memories. In an effort to avoid any more painful recollections, Kursed peered over her shoulder and did something she had not done since her self-banishment from Lylat: she tried to initiate petty conversation.

"So… " The azure vixen quickly tried to think of something that she could relate to with enigmatic metal knight. "… I take it you've been a… um… Regulator for a long time?"

The armored leviathan spoke not a word, opting to continue their stroll of sorts in almost complete silence, his masked face showing no signs of acknowledging her words. After it became apparent that she would receive no reply, Kursed turned her line of sight back towards the floor, crestfallen. She was not bothered the lack of friendliness displayed by the knight, but rather from that she was unable to tell whether by ignoring her, this warrior was simply following protocol, or if he just plain despised her, like the rest of the galaxy seemed to.

_You should've known better… everyone hates you… even Krazoa…_

The vixen's head remained bowed as the lengthy hallway they had been following gave way into a large chamber. However, Kursed, being currently caught up in a torrent of angst and regret, barely registered this change in surroundings.

Shadows lingered around the walls and corners of the hall, lurking around a set of massive stone pillars, and hovering over a moat-like pool of water, which gently flowed and ebbed its way around the room. The mellow chanting she had previously heard softly echoing though the palace now rose substantially in volume, but not enough to pass into the boundaries of "loud". This phenomenon would have escaped the despondent vixen's attention as well, if the cold metal grip of the Regulator had not found its way once more to her shoulder, bringing a halt to this angst-stricken march of hers.

As her perception suddenly returned from its hajj into the land of self-pity, Kursed became aware of a large, intricate symbol upon the floor. Bright white lines looped and curved along smooth stone, creating a complex, star-like pattern. At the center of this design lay the image of an elegant gold scarab, its wings folded and its pincers open as if ready to strike towards some unseen threat. Kursed had little time to examine this peculiar emblem as the infrequent words of a certain armored brute made their way into her ear.

"And now you bow."

The cold harsh gauntlet promptly took absents from Kursed's shoulder, in its place a dull pain and feeling of great pressure made itself present upon her lower back, just a few inches above the base of her tail. The bounty hunter felt her legs buckle as she fell to her knees upon hard stone floor; her eyes clenched shut in a grimace of pain.

As she once more re-opened her eyes upon the universe, the first thing that came to her attention was the presents of a long flowing piece of fabric; its hue a bright aqua, like the waters of some clear tropical sea. The material formed some sort of sleeveless robe, almost akin to a poncho. Kursed's eyes followed the gold-embroidered edges of this cloth up to yet another metal mask. This one, however, held a far more ornamental appearance than that of the Regulator or the other soldiers; possessing a larger, more intricate "headdress", as well as a red-ruby scarab beetle imbedded upon its forehead. A calm pondering expression lay eternally set upon the faux-face of this being, as if trying to decide the fate of hapless bounty hunter before it.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kursed watched as the Regulator, with his nearly trademark silence, stepped away from her to whisper something into the ear-area of this "Dolus" individual, before strolling off to the side and stopping some distance away to take his place amongst a column of more masked soldiers.

"Forsaken wanderer… you are very far from your home." A hollow, calm voice flowed from the Krazoan elder, lacking the harsh, almost synthetic tone of the Regulator. At the same instant these words reached Kursed's ears, Dolus began a slow pacing around her. She would have thought he was somehow hovering, were it not for the gentle rustles in his robe, which betrayed leg movement.

"Pray… tell me… what is it that has brought you before us?"

"I… I am a bounty hunter… I came here to catch a convict whom was holed-up in the Kra-… in your… palace." Kursed fumbled for the right words to present her alibi, least she invoke the wrath of any more of these god-headed titans. All the while, though, she was unable to shake the feeling that this elder already knew the answer to his own question.

"Ahhh…" Dolus calmly exclaimed, lifting his head into the air and inhaling deeply, before quickly bringing his gaze back down upon the azure vixen.

"No… that is but the reason for your presence here, not what has conspired to bring you to this point." The tempo of the elder's voice slightly quickened, and his tone took on an air of interrogation. "The Keepers… they tell us much. You have been here before, yet your soul and conscience are… different. Pray, allow me to inquire again… what is it that has brought you here, to this point in your life? What is it that made you into who you are today?"

Kursed lowered her head back towards the floor, and shut her eyes once more, yet again fighting back the flood of unpleasant memory that assaulted her.

_Well… there's no use trying to run from it anymore… these freaks probably already know… and if not, they're still not the type I really want to lie to… _

"I…" Both Kursed and Krystal struggled to find the right words for what had happened. Instead, she opted for the simplest way to describe it, ergo it was beyond an understatement. "I… I was betrayed."

"You were betrayed." Dolus echoed her words at a much louder volume than before, almost resembling an attorney interrogating his witness before some unseen jury. "Yet, there's more to it than that, is there not? The burden you carry runs much deeper than a single betrayal… I see guilt within you. You betrayed in kind, did you not?"

These words struck a nerve somewhere in both Kursed and Krystal, as the azure bounty hunter instinctively lashed out at the masked being before her.

"Who the fuck do you think are you?! My fucking social worker!? This really isn't any of your fucking business!!"

"Ahhh… and here we are at the core of it all: the fuel for this miserable machination that has become your psyche. And this is our business, Cerinian, whether you like it or not, and whether you understand it or not. Now, tell me of this one whom swapped betrayals with you…"

"Listen, motherfucker, I've had just about enough of you-."

"Oh, no you have not, little Cerinian. It is by my whim that you currently possess an intact cranium and chest cavity. The minute you have 'enough' of me, will be the same minute you exit this physical realm. If I were you, I would pay heed to this fact."

"But you're not me, now are you?"

"No, my child. No, I am not. And I thank the Light for that. Now, enough of this wasteful bickering; Pray… walk with me."

Kursed blinked several times in rapid succession at this seemingly out-of-place request, especially seeing as the asker had, less than a minute ago, threatened her life. In the past, when a crime lord had temporarily captured her, they had usually only requested something as common as a smoke with her, or, from the more amorous ones, a kiss. But a walk? Now this was something new…

The azure bounty hunter rose to her feet and followed the robed elder, all the while being silently shadowed by a small entourage of masked soldiers. As Kursed caught up with the hierarch, Dolus' hollow, almost monotonous voice spoke once more.

"Now then… tell me about this one whom betrayed you. Judging from your strong emotions, I would venture to say you two were very close. Am I correct?"

Kursed fought back the urge to lash out upon the mentioning of this subject; the last time had proven fruitless, almost dangerous, and she did not wish to challenge Dolus to back up his threats. For now, she pushed aside her emotions as best she could, and answered the questions in a cold distant tone.

"Yes… yes we were…"

"He was your mate, was he not? Or at least, supposed to be?"

"Yes… he… he was…"

"And how exactly did he betray you?"

"He…" Kursed grimaced at the unpleasant recollection nearly overcame her synopsis. "He abandoned me… he later claimed… claimed it was for my own protection. Even after he promised never to hurt me, he leaves me high and dry, and claims it's to PROTECT me!"

"So, he broke his promise to you by leaving. And how did you respond to that?"

"I joined with his rivals. There was a war going on. And when the time came for me to choose whom to help… I chose them over him. Just like he chose his job over me."

"Ahhh… how… ironic. But the universe practically runs on irony. This is not the whole story, is it? What happened after? What was the response to your actions that brought you all the way to us?"

"After… after the war… no one wanted much to do with me. My friends wouldn't talk to me. The team I had joined always regarded me with either mistrust or contempt. Some people even tried to hurt me. So, one day, when my new 'team' finally booted me, I just left. I couldn't take it anymore… there was nothing left for me…"

"So… in revenge for someone mistrusting and leaving you, you join a rival group; and to spite those who call you a traitor, you simply run away?"

"NO!! You don't understand… he betrayed me… I did nothing wrong… only he did…"

"Then tell me, child, why you are racked with such guilt? I never claimed your decisions were wrong; As a Krazoan Hierarch, I cannot condone or condemn any of these actions. I can, however, tell you one thing…"

Kursed suddenly became aware that, sometime during their extended dialog, the small entourage had made its way out onto another large balcony, looking out into the misty abyss. She turned to face the robe-clad hierarch with mild confusion.

"… You only, truly, become something, if you wish to. Both you, and those who abandoned you, are only traitors if they want to be. It is both your actions and your intent that define you."

Kursed stifled a small chuckle. Coming from an eight-foot-tall, mask-wearing warlord, that was, beyond a doubt, one of the cheesiest things she had ever heard; yet, she couldn't help but see some truth in it. At least it didn't single her out for blame, like everything else had.

"Ahhh… Your time here is up, little Cerinian; there is little left for either of us to say, and little reason for you to remain here. Now, I do believe that there is a saying that best sums up the situation…"

A metal-plated hand reached out from the flowing robe and placed itself firmly upon Kursed's shoulder, as Dolus lowered his masked face just inches away from that of the azure vixen.

"Kindly fuck off."

A split second later, before she could react to this, Kursed found herself soaring over the edge of the platform and tumbling down the slanted sides of the palace, landing on her back with a resounding thud upon yet another metal and stone veranda.

As her wind returned to her after her sudden "trip", the azure vixen released a low, pained groan before opening her eyes towards the dark gray sky above. Roughly two stories above her, a line of cold, metal faces peered down over the railing at the spectacle below them. Kursed took the opportunity to send one of her trademark glares up towards the small group of godheads, in thanks for such "gentle" treatment.

Rising to her feet, the calm hollow voice of Dolus echoed down towards her ears.

"And one last thing, Cerinian. Take heed, for we are not the only ones to have returned to this system; the Heretics now stalk the shadows."

"Heretics? What the fuck does that mean?" The bounty hunter once again peered up towards the balcony, only to find it completely devoid of presence. "Bunch of fucking spooks…"

Extracting her attention from the ledge above her, Kursed examined her present location, discovering that she was now upon the very same platform that she had arrived upon. A few yards away stood her Cloud Runner, its starboard wing and landing gear having been mysteriously restored and lacking any evidence whatsoever that it had ever sustained damaged.

The azure vixen lifted her eyebrow in wonder at this unlikely phenomenon before quickly scanning her sight around in search of clues to this intriguing riddle. The answer presented itself in the form of a small group of figures standing closely together near the very same doorway she had previously entered. A few of them she recognized as the moderately armored soldiers she had seen throughout the palace; the rest were clad in baggy gray robes, possessing a distinct lack in looseness and sophistication compared to Dolus', and sporadically covered in oil and other fluids associated with engine maintenance. In addition, their helms were smaller, and appeared more specialized for mechanical work rather than combat, lacking the wide "headdress" and the metal "beard" which would literally protect their neck.

As Kursed cautiously approached, the entire group seemed to watch her with cold, blank stares, and one of the few soldiers among them raised her weapon to an angle between the ground and approaching vixen. Through the dissipating veil of light fog, Kursed noticed subtle shapes and curves, slightly hidden by the design of the armor, along the soldier's body, normally associated with the figure of a female.

By taking another step towards the group, Kursed crossed some boarder, as the masked soldier pulled back on a lever along the side of her weapon, producing a distinct energized squealing sound, signaling to the bounty hunter that she had approached close enough.

"Oh, no, no. I... I don't mean any harm." The azure vixen spoke as she stopped in her place and raised her hands to signal her passive intentions. "I just want to know… did you fix my ship?"

One of the machinists slowly nodded his head, while the rest continued with their unrelenting blank stare.

"Oh, um… well… thanks for that, I guess… even though you fuckers blew it up in the first place… How much do I owe you?"

The soldier who had been previously pointing her weapon gently shook her mask from side to side, and spoke in a hollow, yet higher-pitched voice in response to this naïve question.

"Nothing. You owe us no money for this. As you said, we…" The armored soldier quickly glanced over both shoulders at her brothers and sisters gathered behind her. "…Fuckers… are the ones who damaged your fighter in the first place. Now, I suggest you take your immediate leave from here."

Kursed rolled her eyes at these words, seeing as just a short while ago these beings had been all too happy to be her captors, yet were now trying hard to be rid of her.

"I will. Just… could you please… answer one last question? That robed guy… the one with the big fancy mask… Dolus… he said something about 'Heretics stalking the shadows', or something like that. What the fuck does he mean 'Heretic'?"

The soldier stared blankly at the bounty hunter for what seemed like hours as a few small, entertained chuckles erupted from the crowd behind her. Without a word, the masked warrior removed her armored hand from her rifle, raising it into the air and swiftly balling it into a fist. This caused a pair of long, perpendicular blades to instantly sling outwards, running parallel with her arm. The cutting edges of these began to glow a bright mauve as they became energized. The Krazoa promptly began to slowly "slice" the air, pushing her mask forward and rattling it, all the while making some sort of low, hissing noise. The ones behind her followed suit with similar behavior, as Kursed looked on, dumbfounded.

"Umm… well, ok then… You know what? Fuck it. I'm just going to be leaving then… Goodbye."

As Kursed walked away, the small group promptly reverted back to the state of loitering they had been engaged in prior to the bounty hunter's approach. The azure vixen gently shook her own head and muttered under her breath.

"Yep. Definitly a bunch of fucking spooks…"

The azure vixen quickly climbed onto the wing of her Cloud Runner and opened the hatch. Having now felt that she was somewhat more familiar with the unpredictable nature of the universe than when she had arrived, Kursed now wished to put as much distance between her and the enigmatic palace as she could.

Before she could enter into the cockpit, she noticed her staff and pistol, both of which she had nearly forgotten about completely, carefully laid upon the seat. In addition, a small, high-end-model carbine was leaned against one of the corners, along with several spare charges. Kursed gave a quiet grunt of approval towards these new objects, almost smiling, both at the fact that this was a gift, and the idea that it had been "requisitioned" from the thugs she was previously after. This meant, to her at least, that she would not leave empty-handed after all.

After placing her possessions into their appropriate places, Kursed activated the control board of the Cloud Runner. A familiar automated voice greeted her as the fighter's systems flickered to life.

"**Attention: Repairs upon starboard wing and landing gear are complete. All systems are functioning at 99 or higher. All systems are ready for takeoff."**

Kursed couldn't help but break a small smile at this information.

_100? They may be a bunch of spooks… but damn they're good…_

The fighter hovered in place for a second, revolving around to the proper direction, before zipping off into the dark gray sky once more.

--

Dolus calmly walked away from the balcony, preparing to make his way back to his chambers, when a single armored soldier accosted him.

"Hierarch, we have located the target. I've uploaded his coordinates onto our Battle Net, as was ordered."

"Most excellent." Dolus commended the messenger before turning his attention towards the armored column standing nearby. "Well, Regulator… it appears that the time has come for you to be someone's 'knight in shining armor', literally and figuratively. Are you prepared, my warrior?"

The armored knight stepped forward out of the formation, raising his weapon high above his masked head. He swiftly moved his metal gauntlet to pull back the bolt of the rifle, producing an intimidating squeal. Shortly thereafter, his harsh, nearly synthetic voice provided a verbal answer.

"My blood for the light."

--

_ Ok, in case you haven't noticed, I have almost completely revamped the entire concept of "Krazoa". Hope you like this rendition, because the whole "magical peace spirit" thing didn't leave me with much to work with._

_Anyway, I'm going to try submit the next entry much quicker than I did this one. No promises though._

_-WZ_


	4. It All Goes 'round Again

_ Not so much of a wait this time, just a few weeks. :P I'm gonna try to gun for even less with later updates._

_ Starfox is copyright of Nintendo. OC's are copyright of myself._

--

The dim outline of a ship floated through the darkness of space, drifting in a fashion which indicated that it possessed no particular destination. Faded residue of red paint, now only partially visible, signaled that this ship was christened, or at least formerly christened, the "Great Fox II".

A lone vulpine sat upon the command chair within the bridge of the craft, staring carelessly off into the great black void, occasionally taking sips from a bottle of cheap wine.

This individual was not the owner of the vessel, however, a fact made evident as she sent the now-emptied container hurdling across the room with a complete disregard for the sanctity of the ship. The snow-white vixen drew a soft smile over her face, releasing a few chuckles of self-commendation.

"Sometimes… it's just too easy…"

The automated doors towards the rear of the bridge suddenly opened, allowing for the entrance of a large, muscular, male pit bull. Clad in a black leather biker's jacket with pants and boots of the same material, the canine sported a displeased frown as he made his way across the room towards the vixen.

"Kari, have you been sitin' here drinkin' this whole fuckin' time?" The thuggish-looking dog inquired in a low gruff voice as he plopped himself down in a chair adjacent to that of the vixen, and dawned on an expensive-looking pair of sunglasses.

"The fuck's it to ya? And where'd you get the shades?" The red jump-suited vixen responded with her own set of questions, careful to coat each word with a moderate amount of scorn and impatience.

"Eh… found 'em in a drawer in McCloud's room; not like he really needs 'em anymore." The canine nonchalantly replied, now turning to face his ivory-hued compatriot. "So tell me: where, exactly, are we headin' to pawn this old shit-bucket? Seein' as you're the one with the plan and all…"

"Is that all you care about, making money?"

The canine once more turned to face the stark-white vixen, this time lowering the sunglasses to expose a pair of beady, brown eyes.

"You know, after what you did to McCloud, that's real fuckin' funny. I mean, the guy opens up his heart, home, and bank account to you, and you just hand him over to some Titanian warlord without battin' an eye. That's just fuckin' cold, right there."

The vulpine let out a coy giggle, as if she had just been told some tacky joke and were playing along with the humor.

"Yeah… I know… it's great, right? I mean, I spend a couple weeks standing around and winking at the guy, and he hands over everything he's got. I say it serves him right for being such a damn 'Mr. Trustful' towards a bunch of complete strangers, even if they had been working with him for the last couple of months. Besides… you act like it's the first time we've ditched a mark."

"Whatever…" The pitbull mumbled, lowering the sunglasses back over his eyes and reclining back into the chair. "But I just want you to know: you ever try to pull any of that shit with me, I'll rip your fuckin' chest open."

The vixen finally leaned up out of her seat and faced the leather-clad canine.

"Ya know, Sternick, I'd really like to see you try."

"Ya know, Kari, maybe I just might. And maybe I might decide to have some fun with you first? Give that fat ass of yours a real reason to jiggle, huh? How does that sound to ya?"

The snow-white vulpine glared at her comrade, a look of complete loathing evident in her eyes. Before she had a chance to respond, the bridge doors opened once more as an agitated-looking chipmunk, clothed in an oil-covered, green jumpsuit entered into the bridge.

"God-fucking-damnit!! Can we please, PLEASE go at least ten fucking minutes without some of your half-assed threats?? And while you're at it, could someone remind me why the fuck I put up with you two in the first fucking place??"

"Oh, well what do we have here?" The vixen removed her attention from her other teammate to greet this new arrival with rolling eyes and ample sarcasm. "It's the ever-charming Lonin. To answer your questions: first off, mind your own damn business; and second, because we're the only ones within a billion light-years who don't wanna blast your ass into cinders. Maybe you should try to keep it that way."

"And maybe you should just have a nice big glass of 'Shut the Fuck Up', Kari. It's bad enough having to deal with the fucked-up radar on this rusting shit-hole, makin' it seem like there's a ship comin' when it fact there's diddly-shiiiiit out there; the last damn thing I need is to have to put up with you two fuckheads."

"Well, Lonin, you don't have to. Why don't you do something other than bitch, and go get me another bottle of wine from that crate in the cargo hold?"

"Excuse me, bitch, but who the fuck put you in charge?"

By this point the canine of the trio, whom had been previously reclining in his chair, ignoring the dialogue around him, turned to face his temperamental teammate.

"No one did, Lonin. But I am sure as hell getting' real tired of your attitude. You can either go get the damn bottle, or I can blast your ass out the airlock. Your choice."

The chipmunk furrowed his brow at the insolent canine, his upper lip stiffening in preparation for a stinging comeback, but he could think of none.

"Fine. You wanna be an asshole about it, then I'll go get your fucking bottle…"

With that, the rodent promptly performed a crude about-face and stormed out the door, muttering irately as he stomped down the hallway.

"Motherfuckin' bitch… you want a damn bottle? Yeah, I'll get your damn bottle… and shove it far up your fat fucking ass… just how you fuckin' like it, ya cocksucking cu-"

His words were stopped short as a gold boot made its presents known upon the floor in front of him. The chipmunk's eyes followed the armored plating up to a solemn metal face that bore down upon the rodent with a cold, blank gaze. Lonin's jaw momentarily descended in awe at the sight before him, but his mouth refused to stay its two cents from this occurrence.

"Holy motherfucking sh-"

His words were cut short as a single, swift motion from the armored titan plunged his world into eternal darkness.

"What about Eladard?"

"Nah… got into a pretty nasty bar fight there a while back… almost killed a guy…"

"Yeah? What happened?" The snow-white vulpine inquired with limited curiosity.

"The asshole was wearin' this tacky-ass shirt that made the whole damn place look like a gay bar. What was I to do?"

"Go fuckin' figure…" The vixen muttered, all vestiges of interest suddenly absent from her voice as she returned her gaze once more to the empty void before her.

Following a few more moments of dull silence, the canine impatiently arose from his seat and proceeded towards the doorway.

"Ok, where the fuck's Lonin? How fuckin' hard is it for that little shit to just go and get a-"

Sternick's words were cut off as the automated doors instantly slid open and a firm, metal boot made contact with his chest, knocking him back towards the center of the bridge and sending "his" sunglasses flying in another direction.

As the canine quickly struggled back onto his feet, he instinctively drew the large combat knife from its sheath on his belt. Taking only a split second to stare in shock at the sight before him, Sternick quickly shook off all feelings of awe.

"I don't know what the fuck you are… but you're dead…" With that, he promptly charged towards the armored being before him, ready to plunge his blade deep within the metal plated chest of the intruder.

These plans were instantly cut short as the titan suddenly lunged forward, using his shear size and strength to simultaneously head-butt and body-slam the canine back onto the ground. Wasting not a moment, the armored leviathan swiftly revealed his own pair of forearm-mounted, plasma-edged blades and drove them straight down though both Sternick's chest and the thin metal floor of the ship's inner hull. The canine punctually let out a bloodcurdling scream before his head fell back into a pool of his own lifeblood.

During the entirety of this rapid series of events, the ivory-hued vixen franticly tried to loosen her pistol from it's holster at her side, finally bringing it up as the gold-hued juggernaut stepped away from the lifeless corpse of her canine comrade. The titan stood up to full height, its masked head barely clearing the ceiling by mere centimeters; two blank, white, glowing eyes glared down towards the vixen, as if passing some sort of divine judgment.

Without warning, the terrified vulpine squeezed off several shots at the ominous being, each ball of crimson plasma bursting into a shower of sparks just inches from contacting the leviathan's armor.

In the blink of an eye, the being closed the distance between him and the trigger-happy vixen, promptly relieving her of her weapon and slamming her into the thick windows of the bridge with a one, fluid arm movement. Ricocheting off the wall and onto the floor with a thud, Kari had roughly half a second to attempt to recover before being flung across the room and into the wall of the opposite side.

As the snow-white vixen once more struggled to her feet, a small trickle of blood flowing down her otherwise gorgeous face. As she wearily raised her head again, a swift streak of mauve light heralded an intense stinging in her abdomen. She soon found herself floating several feet above the floor, suspended directly in front of the cold, metal face of her assailant.

"Shhh-Shhh-Shhh-Shhh-Shhh…" Came a low, nearly synthetic sound from the cold, emotionless face. The hapless vixen's eyes began to glisten and grow dark, and, offering only a whimper in response, she shut them for the last time.

With a resounding thud, the corpse of the vixen fell limply upon the ground, released as the metal titan contracted the blades that kept her body airborne.

Silence haunted the dark nooks and crannies of the bridge, interrupted only by the occasional beeping from the glowing control board. The Regulator calmly craned his masked head around, releasing a series of cracks and pops which aided in disrupting the stillness of the partially derelict ship.

The stoic Krazoa nonchalantly panned his attention around the bridge, as if calmly taking into account a series of chores in need of completion. Stopping his gaze upon the glittering control board before him, the Regulator leaned forward to swiftly activate as series of buttons, causing the previously dark and lifeless screen to flicker to life. An automated voice alerted the armored being of his successful use of the navigation system.

**Destination Confirmed. ETA: 13 Hours.**

A long, deep, electronic sight erupted from the metallic goliath. Although he knew it to be untrue, he had partially hoped that the peoples of this region of the galaxy had developed more advanced space fairing technology. While this ship was extremely primitive compared to the mighty inter-dimensional cruisers of his own people (which could cover the same distance in a matter of seconds), this craft would suffice… for now, at least.

Upon completion of his task, the Regulator turned his attention and efforts upon the motionless remains of the ship's previous occupants, whom he had ever so gently evicted.

They were scum. Common scum. Sure, they may have been somebody's child, sibling, friend, maybe even parent or mate, but that didn't matter. Not anymore.

With stoic demeanor and grace, the armored being swooped down upon the two lifeless spacers. Metal fingers swiftly began to unbutton, unbuckle, and unzip every vestige of attire from their cold, inanimate corpses; neatly folding and stacking the torn and bloodied clothing in a small pile nearby. Experience told him that these garments would, after cleansing and re-stitching, of course, prove useful in the future, and most probably by others who would soon be in his company.

Gently slinging the two corpses over his shoulder, the Regulator proceeded out of the bridge and down the hallway towards where he placed the carcass of the rodent he had previously dispatched. After a short burial rite, he would eject the three animals into space. He regretted not having equipment on hand to recycle the proteins, minerals, and other resources from their bodies, but he wasn't in the business of wish making.

It wasn't that he didn't care about the actual lives of others (unlike most of the assorted thugs, vicious creatures, and half-assed spacers he came across), it was simply that he didn't have time to care, and the logical part of his mind informed him that he lacked resources to do so without endangering his objectives and causes. He was cold, but not callous. An old saying of his people made its way up from his memory, one that was nicely suited for expressing his current situation and standpoint.

_Teojd'k mukkoh: Ak ucc weoj 'heidt uwuad._

Doesn't matter: It all goes 'round again.

--

_ So I'm tryin' to cram in as much characterization I can for the Regulator, seeing as his basic personality kinda requires that he remain sorta mysterious and hollow from this point on. That's right: lack of development is PART of his character._

_ Anyway, feedback (especially positive) is GREATLY appriciated._

_-WZ_


	5. Unforgotten

**Yo, WZ here. First off I want to thank everyone for their encouraging reviews. **

**I'll try to get the next chapter up sometime in the next couple weeks, but you know me...**

**Starfox is copyright of Nintendo, OC's copyright of me, and all that other jazz. **

_--_

_So this is it, huh? Is this how it all ends?_

The auburn vulpine stared blankly up at the dark, dirt-encrusted ceiling. A bright red screen of light acted as one of the walls of the tiny, cramped cell, bathing its contents and occupant in a nauseating crimson glow.

All of this, however, was of little concern to the chamber's sole resident, as he lay contemplating his current situation and what had led him to it. Clad in a brown t-shirt and baggy green pants, both equally torn and stained by blood and dirt, along with his precious red scarf, this formed almost poetically suitable attire for one whose thoughts lie on things gone awry in his life.

_I had it all… fame… fortune… even love… and then I just… threw it all away…_

The disarrayed vulpine continued his ongoing stare-down with the vacant ceiling, his void disposition somewhere on the brink of either breaking into laughter, or tears.

_I know I did what I did for good reasons… I only wanted to protect her… but that still doesn't excuse it… I deserve what happened…_

Fox's demeanor grew more and more tired as his mind wandered.

_I made mistakes… I know it… did my best to make them better… and when that didn't work, I tried to move on, and be strong, like everyone said I should…and a lot of damn good that did…_

The vulpine frowned as his mental life overview reached the events that led him to his current location.

_Yeah, I tried to move on… thought I had found a new life… new kindred spirits… boy… bad fuckin' call…_

A short, sarcastic chuckle issued from his bruised and bloody muzzle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see a guard march past the laser cell-door, careful to be sure that the prisoner within remained that way.

_I really shouldn't be so surprised by it anymore… Can't really think of anyone who hasn't done that by now… shit… even backstabbed myself…_

The color seemed to completely drain from his face with each passing thought.

_No… they didn't betray you… you turned them away… you made them leave…and now…it looks like it all ends here… alone and forgotten… again…_

The crestfallen mercenary closed his eyes tightly, as if trying to block out the present. A split second later, the vulpine's emerald orbs shot back open, now equipped with a tiny sparkle of hope. His bruised and bloodied hand shot down into one of his tattered pockets, emerging a split second later with a small sliver of metal.

_No… not yet… it's not over yet._

The guard outside once more passed on his rounds, his exit from the front of the light-screen cued the vulpine to leap from his rickety cot, landing on all fours in front of the wall of red light. He was familiar with this type of cell… not from personal experience around it, but from a few pointers he had gathered up here and there. While he doubted his ability to make or disassemble one, he knew enough about these energy fields to take advantage of their defects.

_Carefully… carefully… just a little further in…_

Fox cautiously inserted the small strip of gray into a tiny slit at the bottom of the metal frame outlining the crimson screen, going slow as to avoid burning or shocking himself… or worse, tripping an alarm. These cells seemed pretty old, though, so it was primarily the burning and shocking bit that worried him.

Using his thumb, the amber vulpine carefully pushed the sliver in, until it glowed a bright red, and the crimson screen before him promptly disappeared. Not wasting a second, the desperate mercenary darted out and down the hallway in the opposite direction of the guard. Despite he numerous injuries, Fox's mind and body were intent on one thing: freedom… and the chance to live another day.

_Ok, now… all I have to do it get to that vent I saw on the way in, and that should-_

The vulpine's thought process way rudely interrupted as the butt of a blaster rifle emerged from around one of the corners in the hallway, colliding with his cranium and knocking the hapless mercenary down to the floor. As Fox's eyes came back into focus, the weapons of three armed guards, whom had apparently been waiting for him, greeted his line of sight.

"You shit outta luck, man. Boss said you'd try to pull some sorta cockamamie escape plan outta yo' ass." A low, scratchy voice spoke mockingly down to him. "That's a bitch move."

A volley of boots and rifle butts descended down upon the hapless vulpine, slamming into every bit of muscle, bone, and flesh they could get at. Fox let out a loud yelp as one of the guard's boots made contact with his eye socket, causing the entire left side of his vision to go dark.

After what seemed like an eternity, the beating finally subsided, leaving an even more bruised and battered vulpine lying pitifully upon the floor.

"Now, what'd you learn from that? To stay in yo' FUCKIN' cell, bitch." The brutal guard supplemented this statement with a swift kick into the vulpine's stomach, causing him to spit up a large clot of blood.

After dragging him back down the hallway from whence he came, the guards, with an obvious lack of tenderness, discarded the mercenary into a new cell; new to him, that was, for the cell itself contained a revolting, vomit-green paintjob that was likely old enough to vote in most systems.

Shortly after he impacted upon the hard, cement floor once more, the nauseating crimson glow of the light-screen cell once more flooded the room.

"Shiiiit…" Fox groaned as he lifted himself up onto a nearby cot. Aches and pain of all intensities shot up all over his body. A warm, puffy sensation on his face signaled to him that the flesh around his eye was starting to swell, and a sharp pain in his left arm indicated that it had become dislocated sometime during his "interaction" with the guards. On top of it all, he felt dizzy and tired, likely caused by either a concussion or loss of blood from internal bleeding.

_Well… that went as far from sterling as it could…_

The vulpine attempted to once more rise to his feet, only to collapse once more from the mind numbing, all encompassing pain. Slowly reopening his eyes from their clenched state, Fox began to realize the true meaning of the noxious red glow that pored into the room. It wasn't just some bi-product of a cheap laser-cell, it was intentional; A torture device in it's own right, magnifying the ever-increasing feelings of pain and hopelessness that bubbled and oozed their way into his mind.

Red. The color itself seared its way into his mind. It was the color of both life and death; his own personal emblem, and that of his enemies. For him, it usually stood for pleasure, purity, and victory… but now, it only symbolized the overwhelming pain and desperation that enveloped him.

In the back of his mind, the mercenary felt his psyche begin to crack from the unrelenting glow. His instincts began to shriek for freedom. The logical center of his mind told him that even if he did escape, he had nowhere to go, and no one to go to, but that didn't matter now. He wanted to get out. He NEEDED to get out.

Like a rabid animal he leaped from the cot, ignoring the screams of pain hailing from all parts of his body, and quickly hobbled over once more towards the red screen of light.

There was one last glitch he knew about the laser grid. It was a last ditch technique he had learned, well, more like he vaguely remembered being mentioned. He had previously counted it off on his list of possible escape plans, but he was desperate now. He wanted out, no matter what it took.

Using his good arm to lift the dislocated one, Fox quickly slammed it into one of the nearby solid walls, producing both a faint popping sound as the joint went back into its place, and a shrill yelp as the nerve endings in his arms informed him of this event.

A dull pain still flowed from his arm, but that was of little concern to him, as he needed the appendage working for the stunt he was about to perform.

Firmly grasping his muzzle with his now usable arm, Fox promptly slammed his fist into the side of the metal frame as hard as he could. A muffled scream arose from his clamped maw as the bones and joints in his knuckles cracked and twisted from impact with the hard object. Despite the intense pain emanating now from his hand, the collision caused the screen of light to flicker on and off, before producing a low whirring sound as its generator failed.

Upon exiting his second cell, a shouted expletive from down the hall alerted the mercenary that the nearby guard was aware of his outing. Turning to face the charging sentinel, the vulpine waiting for him to close to a certain distance, before delivering a swift upwards kick to the guard's chin, making it his turn to be the one sprawled upon the floor.

"Amateurs..." Fox muttered before diverting his attention back down the hall. Unfortunately for him, he never saw it, as his sight towards the end of the corridor was instantly blocked by yet another flying rifle butt.

"Yeah… amateurs…" The familiar, mocking tone of the guard before greeted the mercenary as his eyes de-blurred once more. "Buddy, I don't think yo' really getting' the message here. We gonna havta resort to more drastic measures…"

The vulpine once more felt himself being dragged down the long hallway. He knew the destination to which he was headed… he'd become quite familiar with it over the past several days.

The "torture room" was little more than a large alcove down the hall. The walls were lined with gruesome, bloody instruments, most of them likely common household items reused for a much darker purpose. From the ceiling hung several sets of shackles, with a matching pair bolted to the floor directly beneath them. The guards wasted no time in attaching the hapless mercenary to this device, and even less in striping him down to his bare fur. The vulpine shuddered lightly from the exposed, vulnerable feeling around him.

"Now…" The head guard began once more, his tone taking on a tone akin to that of a sarcastic teacher. "What did ya learn today?"

"That you enjoy sharing your bed with livestock…" Muttered the dazed vulpine, unwilling to play along with this sadistic little game he had come to recently learn.

"BZZZZT!! Wrong!" With that, the guard promptly revealed a small, hand-held tazer, jamming it hard into the area below the vulpine's waist. The mercenary shrieked as the electricity traveled through his muscles and organs, leaving a trail of pain and numbness.

"Now, tell me, what did ya learn?" The guards again inquired, answered this time by only a soft groan that emanated from Fox's muzzle.

"What's that? I don't think ya heard me the first time. Let me repeat myself." Once more, the guard jammed the tazer deep into the vulpine's lower torso, sending electric current running though his body for second after agonizing second.

"Now, again… what did ya… awww, shit. You know what? Fuck it. You ain't gonna listen anyway." Yet again the tazer made its way into the mercenary's flesh, evoking a series of yelps and screams as it remained their for an entire thirty seconds, almost the worst moment of Fox's life… almost.

"That's enough. He ain't gonna learn anything. Besides, boss want him around as long as possible. Take 'em back to the cells."

Giving one last shock "for the road", the guards quickly began to untie the hapless mercenary. A jingling of chains alerted Fox that he was being unfastened, but the stunned vulpine couldn't care less. His mind more preoccupied with the painful tingling sensation coursing through his every nerve and muscle, as well as his ongoing mental review of his existence, which had not been completely interrupted by the actions of the guards. His tattered clothing was roughly and hastily restored to him, and, for the third time, he was dragged down the increasingly familiar hallway and thrown yet another one of the shoddily made cells.

The now severely injured vulpine managed to gather enough strength in him to roll over onto his back, an action that inflicted a heavy toll of pain on his part. Silence once more enveloped the defeated vulpine, with the exception of the low, incessant hum of the cell's energy field. This short period of calm was abruptly shattered as the mercenary began to hack up an alarming amount of blood. As the coughing and wheezing began to temporarily subside, Fox once more looked towards the ceiling. He was desperate now. More so than he had ever been at any point in his life.

"I-is… is there anyone up there? Dad? Mom? Anyone? It's me… Fox…" The death-bound vulpine pleaded towards thin air. "I… I've never really been very religious… hell, most of the time I never really thought about anything… much less believed in it…"

The mercenary once more shut his eyes tight and turned his head, as if attempting to look away from the gaze of some invisible eye floating above him.

"I… I've always tried to do what I thought was right, even if it did end up hurting myself or others…" Fox once more returned his sight to the blank, dirty ceiling above. "I know I've made mistakes… and I've always tried to make amends for them when I can… and … I don't think I've ever asked much of anyone, really…" The vulpine once more inhaled deeply, knowing that he was about to ask something of some invisible force that he had never seen, never really believed in, nor had any idea of, but was now putting the last, small scraps of hope into.

"I… I guess what I'm sayin' is… I… I…I don't wanna die. Not here. Not like this. There's… there's so much left I still wanna do… I want to fly in my Arwing more… I want to be a hero more… I want…" A gentle rivulet of tears began to snake their way down from his eyes. Not for himself, but for the future that seemed to slowly die out before him. "I want my life to have meaning again… and… and… I want... to see… her… again…just one more time, that's all..."

The vulpine's eyelids began to grow heavy. Not from lack of sleep, but from something much more dangerous. Another vicious series of coughs heralded a small rush of blood erupting from his throat. Darkness began to creep inward from the edges of his sight.

"Please… please… don't let me die like this… please…"

The soft humming of the force field was the only response. No light. No voice. No fantastic vision. Nothing. His last desperate hope had failed him.

As this damning realization came to him, the mercenary remained calm. He shed not a tear, and uttered not a whimper. Fox simply closed his eyes, and let the darkness envelope him.

And the darkness would have promptly done this, were it not for a loud, deep explosion that roared through the complex, disturbing the vulpine from what would have been an eternal slumber.

From outside the walls of the cell, the vulpine could hear a barrage of blaster fire, occasionally intermitted with a rapid succession of three, high-pitched pops. With each tri-shot series, the amount of the other gunfire seemed to diminish, and it was only a few moments before a relative silence echoed though the complex once more.

This lull lasted only a matter of seconds before yet another explosion rocked the walls of the prison.

Sounded close…

Curious to see what had disturbed what would have been his otherwise quiet and lonely demise, the vulpine weakly turned his head towards the wall of crimson light in the side of his cell. Several rolling chunks of concrete and steel indicated that his hunch had been correct; a fact further proved as the symphony of gunfire was resumed within the adjacent hallway.

A small group of guards rushed past the entrance of his cell, and the blaster fire intensified, this time sporadically interrupted by a blood curdling scream immediately following one of the triple bursts.

Fox continued to watch what he could of this ongoing firefight for another moment, before one last guard walked in front of his cell, armed with what appeared to be a light, machine-blaster, similar to the model he had used during the Aparoid War. It was the same individual whom has treated him so gently in the torture chamber. The guard wasted no time in letting loose with a volley of automatic fire from the weapon, each little bolt of yellow speeding down the hallway towards the unknown interloper.

"DIE YOU BITCH-ASS MUTHAFU-" His stream of expletives was quickly ended as three blooms of blood and green energy appeared upon his chest, neck, and face, causing the Titanian to lower his weapon and crumple to the ground.

As the warden's body hit the floor, an eerie silence once more swept over the facility. From behind the screen of light, Fox spied a large, dark, shadow-like figure calmly walked over towards the cell. Two, florescent, white eyes examined its contents with a cold, calculating demeanor, before descending once more towards the lifeless body of the warden. The vulpine's own eyes (or more, his only working eye) widened in shock at the monstrosity before him.

_Ok… now what the fuck is that thing?_

A long, shrouded arm reached down to effortlessly retrieved the corpse of the Titanian, before the two, pearly eyes once more returned to the cell, this time seeming to trace around the frame of the door. Without a word, the specter suddenly slammed the remains of the guard into the red screen of light before him, creating a sickening crackling sound as the warden's flesh was simultaneously burnt and zapped.

The figure removed the lifeless body from the force field, before smashing it once more into the wall of energy. The purpose of this odd action soon became apparent to the vulpine as the small generator on the side of the frame began to smoke and screech.

The massive shape once more removed, then reapplied the cadaver, this time causing the generator to burst into a shower of sparks, followed shortly by total silence as the crimson screen faded away.

Tossing the now thoroughly charred remains of the warden to the side, the towering phantom silently entered into the cell and loomed over the badly injured vulpine, staring down with its empty, white eyes.

Under normal circumstances, Fox would have been terrified. However, he was already upon the doorstep of death, and to be killed by this thing seemed to be a bit more honorable, and certainly less painful of a demise than what he would have previously experienced.

"Well…" The half-dead vulpine muttered weakly towards the dark specter above him. "If you're gonna do something, get it over with."

These words warranted a quick, amused grunt from the figure, as if acknowledging some sort of irony or deeper meaning in the vulpine's words. One of the shape's massive arms quickly motioned towards its upper torso, almost instantly dispelling the shadowy veil surrounding the titan, and revealing a shining gold skin of metal. Clutched within its gauntlets lay a large pistol composed of the same material as the armor surrounding the silent giant; two large, triangular blades ran down the bottom of the barrel, and from the end of the hand grip, giving the weapon a shape similar to that of an elongated and warped letter G. A cold, blank face glared down at the vulpine, its sole expression showing neither joy nor disappointment at the sight of the battered mercenary below it.

Fox's eyes stared back in surprise, as the face towering above him rang a bell within his memory.

"You… you heard me, after all… you… of all the damn things…" The edges of the vulpine's lips barely stretched up into a surprised, yet delighted smile, before fading away as the mercenary finally passed out upon the dirty floor.

Two large, metal plated hands reached down under him, scooping Fox up and placing him over his shoulder as if he were still only a small, helpless kit.

With barely an audible sound, the hulking knight exited the cell, the unconscious vulpine in tow. As he made his way back down the dusty, rubble-filled corridor, two of the few remaining guards rounded the corner; both were quickly dropped as the titan's weapon gave its input to the situation.

Passing by the ruined walls of the complex, most would have felt a sense of modest self-satisfaction at the aspect of saving the life of another. The Regulator, however, experienced only nominal feelings of this sensation, nothing to warrant excitement.

Experience had taught him well that just because the current situation called for the sparing of this pitiful mercenary's life, it did not mean that the vulpine would survive long afterwards, or that orders would not later call for him to end the life of this "Fox McCloud".

Like so many other things, however, the future was of little magnitude to the Regulator at this moment. All that mattered was that the task at hand was completed, and that he was prepared for the next phase of his plan, whatever that might be.


	6. Meet Mr Scipio

Kursed's eyes wearily opened themselves to the dim, gloomy interior of the Cloud Runner. Foul, bitter mucus coated the roof of her mouth, a telltale sign that she had fallen asleep with her jaw open. A dull pain pulsated from the center of her cranium, several cricks had developed in her neck, and her fur was lightly soaked in a cold sweat; yet more indication that she had not rested well.

Then again, how could she? The Cloud Runner was constructed with the idea of keeping its operator alert and focused, not for pleasant slumber. Certain recent events wouldn't allow for her to enter a sleep-friendly state of mind, either; not that she had really ever entered a sleep-friendly state in the last six years.

A quick glance at her own reflection in the fighter's windows informed her that she possessed an appearance to match how she felt. Dark bags and wrinkles formed towards the bottoms of her eye sockets, making her appear at least thirty years older than she actually was. In addition, her long violet locks of hair, which she normally gave little mind too, seemed to be in the midst of an uprising against the way she kept herself.

Krystal frowned slightly at this for three reasons: first, that it more than vaguely reminded her of old stories of witches she heard as a child; second, that her self-assumed unattractiveness did nothing to dilute the occasional unwanted lustful glances she received; and third, that less than a decade ago one of the prettiest faces in the galaxy would have been staring back at her. Kursed, however, quickly shooed this feeling of remorse from her mind, a process she had made an almost constant habit of in order to keep her other self in line.

As the azure bounty hunter ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to restore at least a sense of order to her scalp, the communication signal on the fighter's dashboard lit up, activating the shipboard computer's monotonous voice.

"**Incoming transmission. Sender: Bounty Hunter's Guild, Local 136. Do you wish to accept?"**

Kursed sighed lightly at this announcement. She remembered how six years ago, when she was first starting her career as a bounty hunter, she had assumed that hunting was an almost completely freelance job, an assumption that was promptly proven incorrect after she was nearly incarcerated for operating without a license.

Luckily for her, the Bounty Hunter's Guild had taken notice of her performance, paid off her bail, and granted her a license, on the condition that she obey their charter rules. Kursed, however, always had difficulty obeying these guidelines, a habit which constantly kept her at ends with the guild heads, her sole saving grace being her own efficiency and high success rate.

"Open Line." The vixen grudgingly muttered. Truth be told, half of her wished only to be alone for the moment being; the opposing half, however, was desperate for some distraction to prevent the "other" vixen from popping up to vie for control amidst marauding thoughts of despair.

A holo-panel before her flickered to life above the control board. The stern-looking face of an eagle faded onto the screen.

"Kursed, baby… we need to have a talk." The avian was sure to thickly coat his initial words with an insincere, sarcastic friendliness, which slowly tapered as the sentence wore on. Upon finishing his statement, the bird folded his arms behind his white-feathered head and leaned back into his chair.

"What is it this time?" The vixen retorted, her voice devoid of any aspect of glee.

"Oh, nothing. Well, two things, really. First off, I want to reward and congratulate you on a job well done." The avian concluded this sentence by reaching his arm forward and pressing a single button upon the keyboard in front of him, causing a second screen to appear next to the communication panel, informing Kursed that a large sum of money had just been deposited into her account.

"And second, I want to ask you why the fuck you felt it necessary to have all the suspects well done, too." The avian activated a different button, prompting yet another screen to appear, revealing the macabre image of a large, blazing pyre composed of incinerated corpses, which Kursed barely recognized as the thugs she had encountered back in the palace. The vixen's eyes darted back and forth between the avian in the com channel and the still of cremated bodies.

"So… what? You think I did that?" The azure bounty hunter input into the silence.

"No. Between you and me, I think ghosts did it." The ends of the eagle's mouth curved upwards into a sarcastic smile, his eyes widening to an innocent size and blinking rapidly with the purpose of furthering his underlying tone. Kursed sighed irritably at the avian's unintended irony.

"Look, Kursed, sweetie…" The avian's expression and tone reverted back to seriousness. "We're in the business of bounty hunting, not gruesome extranet photography. This type of behavior is far from accepta-".

"But I didn't do it!" The azure vixen interrupted, quickly growing irate towards the false accusation against her.

"That doesn't matter anymore. The Guild is tired of having to clean up after you every time something like this happens, which, I gotta say, is pretty damn often."

The bounty hunter began to clench her fists and snarl in response. This action did not go unnoticed from the other side, as the avian in turn changed his expression from reproachful to sympathetic, leaning closer towards the screen to speak.

"Look, Kursed… you're one of the best in the field, one of the best I've ever seen. But you've gotta see, shit like this is starting to make you into a liability for myself, and the Guild as a whole. I'm placing you on indefinite suspension, until the board decides what to do with you. In the meantime, I suggest you search for other career opportunities. Other than that, you're on your own." The avian promptly activated yet another switch, severing the communication link and causing the screen to go dark.

Silence once more filled the cockpit of the lone fighter, seeming to whirl and prance around as if in some sort of mocking dance towards the azure vulpine within. Kursed's right eye began to twitch, followed in short by her hands balling into fists. What seemed like an eternity passed before the stillness was abruptly shattered as the vixen verbally vented her frustrations towards the stars around her.

"FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!" Obscenity after obscenity exited her mouth, only moderately quelling her anger.

The guild master let loose a discontented sigh as the light faded from where the communications screen formerly was.

Nervously glancing around the room, the avian arose from his chair and calmly but swiftly made his way towards the security pad near his office door. The pressing of a single button caused a nearby panel to instantly turn red, indicating that the door was securely locked. The avian once took glance around the room, then yet another for good measure, before returning to his seat.

Gulping loudly, the white-feathered fowl slowly raised a shaking arm towards his desk-keyboard, prompting another holographic screen to appear.

"There… it's done… what you've asked… It's… it's done."

A brief silence filed the office before being filled by a calm, hollow voice emanating from the holo-screen.

"Ahhh, yes… we are very pleased with your choice. Your cooperation has been duly noted, and the Guild has more than earned both the respect and business of the Hierarchy." A tall figured clad in a pensive gold mask and flowing aqua robe stood stoically facing the screen.

"I should hope so, Dolus… you just had me fire the woman that solely accounted for about twenty percent OF our business."

"It is regrettable, yes, but I can assure you that it is for the better. You, yourself, said that she had become quite a burden upon the Guild as of late..."

"Yeah… crazy bitch has more than her fair share of issues… which, of course, you are, with respect, more than aware of. Right?" The avian quickly and nervously corrected his tone as the gravity of whom he was speaking with reaffirmed itself upon him.

"We are very well aware of her mental condition, and you should have faith in us to address the situation with distinct swiftness and grace." The Krazoa's tone maintained it's ongoing, unnerving calmness.

"I… I do… of course, I do…"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair by a long shot. This job was all she had, her only escape from the constant, self-imposed mental assaults.

Over the years, Kursed had attempted to convince herself that she was only in it for the money; truth be told, however, she rarely ever looked forward to her next payday, only her next assignment. The money never really helped, mostly because she had no idea of what to spend it on. Material possessions just never really grabbed her interest.

She had once pondered visiting a relaxation spa on Kew, but that plan was quickly shot down when she discovered it was a couples-only facility, a fact that only added strength to her ongoing avalanche of angst. As a result of this spending lull, large amounts of capital had accumulated within her bank account.

Like it had for the last six years, and like it always had, money did nothing to alleviate the dark cloud of depression that was fast descending upon her. It began to seem as if the very walls of her fighter were closing in on her. No, not the walls, but the gloomy shadows which haunted their surfaces, now encircled and pranced around her in derisive glee at her predicament. Closer and closer they danced, until Kursed could almost swear she could hear their mocking chants.

"Shut up… shut up…SHUT UP!!! JUST SHUT UP!!!" The azure bounty hunter screamed out towards the darkness around her, instantaneously ushering in complete silence as the shadows returned to their places on the walls, standing in almost total stillness as if nothing had ever happened.

The total quiet of the cockpit was broken only by Kursed's own heavy breathing as she attempted to mentally pull herself back together again. Moments of silence once more dawned on an air of infinity, slowly draining away at the already shaken vixen. After the excruciatingly long period of stillness expired, the bounty hunter let loose a loud, semi-sarcastic giggle of disbelief.

"Ok, then, old girl… you're yelling at shadows now… that's not healthy…" After the last words exited her mouth, the vixen swore she could see the shadows slowly restarting their agony-exploiting dance; this time, though, Kursed didn't wait around for it to fully develop.

"I need out of this fucking ship… I need air… I need more space… I NEED OUT!!!" Kursed once more issued forth a scream before franticly opening up another panel to search for some sort of grounding. The first planet that popped up on the screen was quick to make the vixen cringe as the ship's automated voice sounded out the name.

"**Location: Planet Sauria. Do you wish to set coordinates?**"

"Ugh… no… no more spookies, please." Kursed groaned as she quickly searched for another destination.

_And no more bad memories…_

After a short moment of seeking for an appropriate destination, the azure bounty hunter sighted one that suited her needs.

"**Location: Planet Macbeth. Do you wish to set coordinates?"**

Macbeth. She had heard about that planet; Fox had mentioned it before, something about a train, but that was irrelevant at the moment; it would likely be irrelevant for the rest of her life.

In the past, Macbeth was one of the most sought after mining worlds in the galaxy, highly valued for its rich deposits of various industrial minerals. However, the devastation from three major wars, all roughly in the same decade, as well as the resulting economic instability and surge in criminal activity proved too much for the mines to handle, and as a result over ninety percent of the planet lay abandoned; besides a few small settlements, only ruined shantytowns and decaying factories remained.

Kursed found these credentials almost irresistible for a rest spot. Not only would the low population almost assure that no one would disturb her, the planet's current state seemed an almost mirror image of her own.

"Yes, set coordinates for Macbeth." The vixen finally responded, causing several consoles to light up in reaction to the new command.

"Destination confirmed: Planet Macbeth. E.T.A: Ten Minutes." Chimed the computer's automated voice.

"Ten?" The vixen spoke in a mildly confused tone to no one in particular. Upon once more checking the navigational screen, Kursed found that the whole time she had been floating through space, she had been drifting ever closer towards Macbeth.

"Oh… right… well, then." The vixen nervously complied; slightly perturbed at herself that she had failed to take notice of this occurrence.

******

The Cloud Runner slowly touched down in the middle of a large, dusty lot, surrounded on all sides by a sprawling, dilapidated, and thoroughly abandoned shantytown. As soon as the cockpit opened, Kursed was immediately assailed by the strong stench of carbon soot and other industrial byproducts.

Flimsy shacks constructed of plywood and sheet metal looked on like an anxious crowd as the bounty hunter stepped down from her fighter. A heavy wind blew over the roofs of the huts, causing nearby abandoned machinery to unleash a horrible, ongoing screech, as if the structures themselves were screaming out in anguish… or warning of some unseen danger.

The azure vixen, however, paid little to no attention to this phenomenon. Her mind was once more maneuvering itself for self-consumption as she began to slowly walk through the deserted streets and alleyways of the ruined mining town.

At some point during the jostling it took to enter and exit her fighter, one of the medical kits still attached to her belt had become loose, a fact quickly highlighted as the small box plummeted from Kursed's satchel, spilling it's contents across the dust-covered ground beneath her.

_Why me? _

These two simple words were all it took to once more restart her angst-burdened train of thought. It wasn't at all about the med kit, however; it was all about everything else.

_Why does this always happen? Is there something wrong with me? Is this all some sort of cruel joke? Why? Why?_

Kursed continued her stroll through the shantytown, her surroundings becoming more grandiose and less dilapidated, but not by much. She had likely entered into what was once the administration complex of this mining town, but Kursed couldn't have cared less, a fact that seemed to apply more and more often to her.

As her mind slipped deeper and deeper back into her own self-made pit of despair, Kursed could feel shadows once again surrounding her. These were not, however the same shades that had tormented her aboard the Cloud Runner; these shadows were darker, fuller, and more ominous. While the gloom on her ship was perfectly content with simply tormenting her, the darkness here was after something more.

It took only an instant for Kursed to recognize this encroaching void around her; the same feeling of dread and malevolence she had felt before she had revisited the Krazoa palace now crawled up her spine like some many-legged insect. Once more, a soft menacing voice drifted out of the darkness, snaking its way into her ear, and wrapping itself firmly around her psyche.

**And into our hands, you blindly wander once more, little Cerinian. Is this a habit of yours, my dear?**

_No… no no… not again… not this again…_

Kursed's instincts quickly took control of her rapidly crumbling mind, urging her to flee with all due haste to escape the encroaching shadows around her. As she ran, the darkness ceased to be a plethora of shades and shapes, seeming to merge into a single, amorphous figure that followed behind, nipping at her heels.

The azure vixen ran faster than she ever had in her life, propelled by an ever increasing sense of terror and panic growing in the back of her mind and trickling down her spine akin to a thick, cold ooze. No matter how fast she ran, however, the form behind her remained close in her wake, indomitable and unshakable. At any moment, the presence could end this chase; cease this little run of Kursed's. It could kill her, ravage her, shred her to pieces, devour her very soul; but it seemed to not desire any of these things. And that was what frightened her the most: a resolute fear of the malicious unknown.

**And just look at you, child. Running. Fleeing. Seeking escape. The one thing you've only ever done; the one thing you've truly ever been skilled at.**

Kursed's pace started to slow, the malicious voice making its way across her mind, converting the overwhelming sensation of terror into pure, boiling anger. The amorphous shape behind her ceased to be a formless shadow, instead becoming all those she had ever born ill will towards, everything she had ever hated.

Regardless of what the vicious specter that haunted her footsteps actually was, it presented an indomitable point: She had always run. That had almost always been her sole method of solving her many troubles. When she was unable to uncover the fate of her home, she had gone off with Fox. When he had left her, she ran off to Starwolf. And when they and the entire galaxy spat on her name, she had, like every time before, fled into the void of space.

The dread in Kursed's mind had nearly completed its metamorphosis into a blinding red rage. She brought a complete halt to her fleeing in the middle of an empty square surrounded by a large, administrative complex.

Guided by her newfound hatred towards the dark entity behind her, Kursed's hand instantly made it's way to her staff, her thumb impacting the jeweled button upon the side of her weapon, causing it to extend as she simultaneously twirled around to face her tormentor.

Upon performing this about-face, Kursed was promptly met with the one thing she had become so familiar with over the past six years: emptiness. Her shadowy adversary appeared to have vanished as quickly as it had appeared, leaving only a vacant street to challenge her.

From the corners of her mind, however, from both her sixth sense and an even deeper region, Kursed knew that she was not alone. The malicious shadow now haunted the corners of her eyes, and in the growing darkness of the Macbethian dusk, several murky forms stealthily crept from the void to confront her.

One dark figure quickly made its way closer and closer to the vixen, edging towards her at a swift, yet cautious rate before coming to a halt roughly 30 feet away. Surrounding the form's head was the now all-too familiar shape of a mask; similar to the ones the vixen had seen back on Sauria, but at the same time, quite different.

This helm lacked the radiant, posh, golden gleam of the Hierarchs, instead sporting a dark, corroded, almost jet-black look. In addition, the "face" of the visor was carved into nothing short of a vicious, sadistic snarl, the kind sported by rabid animals and those fond of devouring faces. The vixen's attention, however, quickly turned towards the weapon the form had trained upon her, almost identical to the rifles the Krazoa had used, and creating a stark contrast between the bright gold weapon and it's dimly-clad wielder.

The intentions of her amorphous pursuer soon became apparent to her. During all of her mental struggles, she had neglected to notice that it was chasing her into an ambush.

_These must be those "Heretics" Dolus forgot to blabber on about._

Slightly panicked towards this new discovery, the azure vixen hastily viewed her surroundings in an attempt to find some means of escape. While such an exit seemed to elude her, the vixen's wandering eyes crossed something that struck her as most peculiar.

Slithering up the side of one of the larger buildings, gloriously bathed in a bright orange from Lylat's setting sun, was the blood red image of an enormous centipede, its pincers set as if on the prowl for prey. Surrounding the crimson arthropod were various lines and markings of the same color, each bearing the appearance of having been quickly stamped on with too much ink, as several streams of red descended downward from the symbols. Beneath the insignia, two words were written in a vandalistic manner, brazenly proclaiming their message for all to behold:

_**Randorn lives**_**.**

"What the fuck does that mean?" The azure bounty hunter thought aloud towards no one in particular, not expecting a reply of any kind. Like so many times in the past, however, the vixen received a response whether she wished one or not.

"Why… is it not so simple?" A voice inquired from seemingly every direction at once, prompting Kursed to rapidly pry her attention from the sanguine centipede and once more apply it towards the increasing number of shadowy figures surrounding her.

Two silhouettes arose on the roof of a building directly across the square from where Kursed was. For a moment they stood observing the clearing below, viewing the lone vixen for as long as they deemed necessary, before moving to their respective sides to allow for a third figure to appear between them.

"Randorn. Lives." The central figure spoke, casually waving it's hand about as if pointing towards two invisible words before him. "So easy, it would seem, that even the most… ignorant of _rubes_ could decipher it."

The shape began to slowly pace along the right edge of the building, it's informal manner of carrying itself in stark contrast to the high-strung, tactical poses of its compatriots.

The silhouette promptly performed a militaristic left face, raising its index finger as if to indicate a point. "But that doesn't see to be the case now, does it?"

As the figure moved into the light, Kursed was finally able to make out the features of this strange being whom seemed so intent on accosting her.

Like his comrades, a masked helm surrounded this figure's head and face; unlike the others, however, this one bore a gleaming, yet corroded nickel-silver hue. In equal contrast to the various snarls, glares, and demonic shapes of the others, a huge, almost cartoon-like toothy grin was carved upon his visor, seeming to glow with malicious intent.

The dark-toned clothes covering his body seemed to exude a similar feel; a dark gray vest that looked to have been sewn together from the pelts of various creatures covered most of his torso. A pair of loose, jet-black pants ran downwards towards two metallic boots, seemingly comprised of the same shining, yet corroding material as his mask and gauntlets. A strange assortment of vials, metallic shapes, and other undeterminable objects crowded around his beltline.

"Now…would you be so kind as to… allow for me to pose an question of my own?" The shade inquired, his voice causing the hairs on the back of Kursed's neck to rise in admonition

While vaguely reminding her of her former employer during the later days of the Anglar War, there was something incredibly unnerving about the intonation of this strange being. When Wolf spoke, there was always the sense that he was a tough guy trying to confirm to the whole universe that he was tough. The tone of this individual, however, seemed more inclined to give off the impression of a calm, charismatic, almost charming, if not slightly provincial, intellectual. Eerie voice or not, however, Kursed was in absolutely no mood for a repeat of her encounter back at the Palace.

"Fine. Since you freaks seem so obsessed with giving me a piece of your mind, ask away. And while you're at it, why don't you just… FUCKING SHOOT ME, and save yourself some time?" The vixen interjected, smiling sarcastically and cocking her head towards the side following her statement.

The dark figure stood silent for a long moment, cocking his head slightly as well, and staring down towards the azure vixen as if pondering a recently presented riddle.

"Hmmm… you know, I reckon that may be a sign that we missed our introduction." The shade finally spoke before turning towards one of his nearby accomplices. "Do you believe as such, my good suh?"

"Indeed I do." The henchman chuckled in an equally unnerving voice, as if playing along with some sort of joke.

"Well, then…my sincerest apologies, ma'am. Most good folk around this part of the galaxy call me Scipio. It is truly a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ms…" The figure bowed slightly and rolled his hand towards the azure vixen below, beckoning her to finish the sentence.

"Kursed…"

"Naw." Scipio instantly uttered, raising his index finger once more, as if to quickly correct a mistake. "I believe your genuine name is… Krystal."

Kursed's eyes quickly widened by nearly an inch, as her long-kept alias was utterly blown apart by this complete stranger.

"Wh-who… but… how… how did you…?"

"Be reasonable now. How many Cerinians do you think are off bein' bounty hunters? Then again, you people never were too smart, were ya? And now y'all _dead_." Scipio hissed, his grinning masque seeming to praise his own wit.

A strong and steady twitch suddenly made itself present within Kursed's right eye. Somewhere within the depths of her mind, Scipio's words had, without a doubt, crossed well over some line.

Completely forgoing the fact that she was surrounded, Kursed's hand instantly made its way to the grip of her pistol, drawing it, and aiming the barrel towards her ever-smiling tormentor. The now thoroughly vexed vixen squeezed the trigger, sending a bolt of red light shooting upwards, barely avoiding Scipio as he instantly leaned out of the path of the shot.

Far too blinded by rage to pay mind to this amazing feat, the bounty hunter once more pulled upon the trigger, sending yet another blast hurdling towards the still-grinning shade, and causing him to once more miraculously veer out of the way.

"Now just you wait here, young missy, you-" Scipio's exasperated words were quickly interrupted as Kursed fired for the third time towards the jarring figure, striking him squarely in the forehead and causing his entire body to burst into a cloud of thick, gray smoke.

Kursed found herself completely dumbfounded by this occurrence; her blaster was far from capable of disintegration, as were almost all energy weapons. The true nature of this phenomenon revealed itself, however, as the plume of smoke condensed back into a now all too familiar form.

"Now, that… was VERY far from lady-like, Cerinian. I would normally be one to take offense to such conduct, but… seein' as it is…"

Kursed merely glared towards the smiling ghoul, raising her weapon once more.

"'C'mon, now, honey. That didn't work the last three times; what makes you think it'll work now?" Scipio's words floated down like the viscous cloud he had formerly been, causing the azure bounty hunter to slowly lower and re-holster her weapon after a brief moment of consideration.

"Good, good… now you just try to keep this all civil-like from here on out. Say, this brings me to another point. Ya' see, we've been watchin' you for… quite a while, now… and one vital fact continues to present itself."

"Really now…" The azure vixen stated with ample sarcasm and a lack of surprise. "And what might that be?"

"You seem to be suffering from several, rather serious pathological conditions. Crazy, if you will."

Kursed stared blankly for a moment, before the ends of her mouth curled up into a slender smile. Several vibrations erupted from the back of her mouth, turning the smile into a giggle, which then evolved into a full-fledged cackle.

"L-let me get this straight…" The vixen bellowed in between almost uncontrollable bought of laughter. "You… you've been stalking me for… for who knows how long… and now here you… here you are, wandering around the middle of nowhere wearing masks and toting guns… and you say I'm… I'M the one with psychiatric issues?!?!?!?"

"You present a valid point, but we weren't the only ones wandering around here, were we? What exactly was it that brought you all the way out here? What were you… _running from_, this time, hmm?"

Kursed's chuckling almost immediately ceased. She dared not reveal the existence of her other tormentors to this… freak, least she reveal yet another item on her already long list of weaknesses.

_Who the hell am I kidding? They probably already know… probably behind those fucking shadows, too…_

"Truth be told, though… that's of little concern now, for we…" Scipio paused his statement to raise his arms to his sides, indicating the presents of his surrounding henchmen. "Are here solely to aid you. And we shall first start… with a joke."

The azure bounty hunter's right eyebrow quickly shot upwards, seeming to almost detach itself from her forehead and leap over the jeweled tiara she constantly wore.

"Help me? With a joke? You?"

"Yeah… a joke…"

"And I'm supposed to be the insane one…" Kursed muttered, dropping her gaze to the ground, before raising it back up to the eternally beaming figure. " Ok, go ahead… let's hear it."

"Right, then. 'Why did the Cerinian cross the road?'"

The vixen's eyebrow rose once more, preparing for possibly yet another rip upon her late kin-folk; not that she really considered herself a real point of pride to them, though.

"I don't know… Why?"

As the last syllable left Kursed's mouth, Scipio produced a small, metallic, rune-covered cube from the various objects along his belt. Methodically twisting the top, he triggered the various symbols along the outer shell to begin to glow with increasing brilliance.

"Because of this." The masked speaker promptly hurled the small cube into the air, making an arching line directly towards where the vixen stood.

Without a moment's hesitation, the bounty hunter leaped towards the side, the resulting blast of strange energy propelling her through the window of a nearby building.

Scipio extended his now empty hand towards one of his compatriots, whom promptly filled it with one of the tong-tipped rifles. He gazed at the weapon with almost child-like fascination as he yanked back upon its lever, causing it to unleash its distinct squeal, before he boldly leapt over the edge of the building.

Landing with controlled grace, as if only having jumped down a single step, Scipio slowly pivoted his gaze up towards the building that currently contained the recently blasted vixen. Any sort of friendliness that had lain within his grinning mask was now replaced by a tone of irrefutable malice that radiated out, akin to a floodlight.

"Oh, Cerinian… one other thing I believe I neglected to mention… we only have but one method of assistance…" The shade spoke, raising his weapon towards where Kursed has so comfortably landed. "Immediate neutralization."

A beam of dark violet energy seared through the walls of the structure, barely passing over Kursed's head and singeing several hairs in the process.

The azure bounty hunter quickly regained her wind, as well as her awareness of her surroundings. Her eyes quickly scanned around the building's dark interior, searching for a possible escape route, preferably one that didn't end in her getting gutted by some mask-wearing psychopath.

Now desperate, her eyes once more darted around the room in a near-futile search for an exit. They found it, however, in the form of yet another window leading towards the back of the building.

Without a moment's hesitation, Kursed dashed at tops speed across the room before diving through the thin layer of glass and into an adjacent alley.

Tilting his weapon over his right shoulder, Scipio elevated his left arm high into the air.

"Xidk xoh tend." The death-head bellowed, dropping his hand down vertically and pointing towards the direction of the fleeing vixen.

No sooner had these words left his mouth than several dozen of his henchmen darted towards the back of the structure.

Kursed sped down the alleyway as fast as she could, the sound of her pursuer's footsteps drawing ever closer. She soon came to a fork in the road, her eyes darting back and forth in a panic between to two paths. The azure vixen frantically searched her memory to remember which direction let back to her ship and the promise of salvation from the hoard of mask-clad fanatics. Her mind suddenly spat out a direction, and her feet followed with due haste.

As the Heretic hunting pack neared the intersection, a female at the head of the group raised her hand into the air, signaling them to halt.

Numerous silvery armor plates covered her body, as well as several intricate carvings of centipedes along her arms and back, indicating a higher standing within the Heretic cabal. Her mask was shaped into an icy glare, viewing its surroundings with a malicious contempt.

Craning her neck as if searching over a large map, the seeker suddenly turned to fling her rifle to one of her comrades, before signaling them all down one of the roads. The shade herself took the other path, methodically clenching her right fist into a ball, allowing the plasma-rimmed blades on her wrist to extend, before taking off down the alley in pursuit of her quarry.

As Kursed continued her rapidly hastened stroll down the alley, the welcoming shape of her Cloud runner appeared in the distance, prompting her to increase her speed even more.

Upon reaching her craft, the azure vixen would have gladly hopped aboard and sped off into the sky, had a hauntingly familiar and long sought voice not reached her ears.

"Krystal…"

The vixen came to a complete halt for a moment, before turning her full attention back towards the way she had come. Her eyes instantly did a double take as her now almost completely shocked and frightened mind struggled to process what she was seeing.

There, strolling calmly down the alleyway was the gentle image of a tired-looking auburn vulpine, clad in green flight pants and a white vest. A worn red scarf was wrapped gently around his neck, almost resembling a bow on a lovingly wrapped present.

"F-Fox?" The vixen was barely able to stutter in complete disbelief.

"It's alright now, Krystal…" The vulpine spoke, his voice just as gentle and deep as she had remembered. "There's no reason to run anymore."

"B-but… what about-"

"Don't worry about it. I won't let anything hurt you ever again."

The azure vixen hesitated for a moment, briefly contemplating all the years she had spent loathing the man before her. In her fear-satiated state, however, her mind quickly rushed for the nearest available comfort, the one she had found herself imagining in her very few pleasant dreams.

Krystal rushed at top speed towards the figure before her, embracing him firmly around his torso. His body felt tougher and colder than she had remembered, but that didn't matter a bit to her now.

"It'll all be ok, Krystal. You and I are on Easy Street from now on. No more worries at all, got it?" The vulpine whispered down to her, his hand gently caressing her long violet scalp.

"Y-yes, Fox. Whatever you say." The vixen whimpered, tears now streaming down from her eyes as she gazed up into the shiny, jet-black ones of the vulpine.

A sudden realization shattered her joy with force akin to being hit by a truck. Fox had green eyes. At least, that's what all her anguished memories had told her.

"It'll be fine, Krystal. Everything… will be… just… _fine_." The vulpine's tone suddenly became deep and menacing as he reached his free arm high into the air. Kursed look on in horror as a dark, armored body and cold, metallic glare suddenly replaced the gentle muzzle she had ever so longed for.

The azure bounty hunter let out a scream, franticly struggling out of the shade's grip, just as a mauve-edged blade sliced through the air where he throat had previously been. Kursed stumbled backwards a bit before quickly performing a back flip to avoid a second slash that ripped through her former position.

The vixen landed in a crouched stance several yards away, instinctively drawing and elongating her staff. Any thoughts of escape in her mind were quickly overrun by a single, inexorable lust for revenge. This masked demon had used the one of the most sensitive parts of the vixen's heart as bait in its diabolical trap, and for that, it would pay.

The dark figure unleashed a horrific, banshee-like scream as she charged towards the vixen, blades fully extended. The Heretic met Kursed head on with a flurry of slices, the bounty hunter being quick to use her staff to deflect each with a shower of sparks. The attack continued, with at one point the eight-foot death-head's blades drawing close enough to slash into the bounty hunter's arm. The vixen winced slightly, recovering her composure just in time to counter the ongoing onslaught.

As the brawl when on, Kursed barely managed to turn the attacks back towards her aggressor, eventually knocking the wraith's arm to the side long enough to allow the vixen to lunge forward, impaling the ghoul upon her staff.

For a long moment, Kursed snarled into the mask of her presumably slain adversary, only to be met with an unsettling, maniacal cackle. The shade slammed her head forward, bludgeoning the vixen directly in the face and knocking her to the ground.

As the azure bounty hunter recovered from this blow, she turned in time to see the masked assassin calmly yank the staff from out of her torso and raise it into the air, admiring her own blood glistening upon its shaft.

Before Kursed could rise to her feet, the Heretic leaped over to her, slamming the staff like a cane down upon the vixen's back. This act was repeated several times, leaving the bounty hunter horribly bruised and bloodied upon the ground.

The shade grew tired of this method, apparently, as she lodged the staff into the ground mere centimeters from Kursed's eyes. Kicking the vixen over onto her back so she could view her own coming demise, the death head lifted her armored boot into the air, hovering it directly over her victim's face.

"Don't worry." The dark figured murmured down in a menacing, ghost-like voice. "Everything will be alright."

"Oh, no it won't." The vixen barely muttered, reaching her hand down towards one of the flash-bang grenades on her belt and quickly hurling it into the shade's masked face.

The taller of the two huntresses stumbled backwards in a daze. Kursed took this opportunity to painfully rise back onto her feet, quickly retrieving her staff from the ground and rapidly letting loose several fiery blasts at the staggering shade, each shot knocking her back slightly.

The azure bounty hunter ceased with her onslaught, lowering her aim towards the Heretic's footing and unleashing an icy beam, freezing her opponent's feet in place, and covering the rest with a thin layer of frost.

Kursed took no more time to view her adversary's condition as she swiftly turned to limp towards her waiting ship as fast as she could.

As the cockpit closed around her, and the Cloud runner began to ascend slowly into the air, a vicious, now all too-memorable metal face once more made its presents known upon Kursed's windshield. The vixen screamed, jerking violently on the controls, causing the craft to rapidly roll hard to the right.

The resulting G-forces caused the shade to latch into the craft for dear life, but somehow, she managed to raise her bladed arm as if to sent it smashing through into the ship's cockpit. This action did not escape the attention of the vixen inside, as she once more pulled hard upon the controls, causing the Cloud runner to now twirl in a counter-clockwise direction.

This was too much for the Heretic's grip, however, as the gravitational forces yanked her free from the main hull of the ship, with one of the fighter's wings colliding mid-air with her, slamming her nearly fifty-feet down and through the roof of a nearby building.

Kursed, however, didn't wait around to view her enemy's impact, as she rapidly activated several buttons upon the Cloud runner's control board, causing the craft to soar at top speed out into the nighttime Macbethian Sky.

The injured shade staggered from the ruins of the building, miraculously arising from her plummet with only a slight limp.

Upon realizing that her quarry had escaped, the dark huntress let out yet another banshee howl into the cold, empty sky.

"Now don't you be fussin' none, dear Sunshine." A calm, charismatic voice called out, heralding Scipio's nonchalant approach. "This was all in the Light's great plan."

The glaring ghoul seemed calmed by these words, as her breathing began to ease, and her stance grew less combative.

"It would seem so, dear Sir."

"Yes… in the meantime, though, we have some… shall you say… errands… to run… " Scipio's statement led off into a mumble as he turned back towards the way he came, the other, now normally-walking death-head in tow.

"What sort of errands?" The shade inquired, her voice seeming to become more and more excited at the concept of a plan from her superior.

"There is some… business we must attend to on… oh, what is that planet called… ah, yes… Corneria."

"Sounds like it should prove interesting… sir…"


	7. Full Spectrum Terrorist

_Good lord... how long's it been? Year? Year and a half? Too damn long..._

_Regardless, here's the long awaited seventh chapter of Gods and Monsters._

_Oh, and uh... insert copyright information here._

_

* * *

_

_A pair of luminous golden orbs stared hungrily down at the medium-well delicacy. A moist red tongue appeared, making its rounds across a pair of ebony lips in preparation for the consumption of the succulent morsel._

"_At last… after seven long years…" A _velvety_ voice emerged from the mouth, its smooth intonation nearly cracking with joy. "Panther is finally having his five-star meals."_

_These words drew the attention of a second pair of bright golden eyes, causing them to end their session of vacant staring to irately glare at their nearby companion._

"_Oh, no. DAMNIT, NO!" Exclaimed the stippled owner of the second pair of eyes, as she raised herself from her hunched position over the dining table to scold her compatriot. "I have NOT worked for the last six years to stop that habit, just to let it all go down the drain over a goddamn steak!!!"_

_All shreds of jubilancy present in the first feline were instantly replaced by sort of startled fear, blatantly evidenced by his folded-back ears and widened eyes._

"_Uh… M-my apologies, dearest Mew-Mew, it's just that Panth… er, or so to say… I have been so very busy these last several years, and that I-I am just so overcome with joy when we finally reap the benefits, and…" The larger of the two cats stuttered to explain himself, prompting his female companion to remove her vexed expression, replacing it with a loving, if not slightly amused smirk. _

"_It's fine… just… avoid the whole third person thing, would'cha? We've all been through a lot, but that doesn't mean we need to start slipping back into bad old habits again, 'k?" The lynx finished her sentence in a saccharine tone, taking the opportunity to lovingly stroke the chin of her companion. Such an action would have created an almost intimate atmosphere between the two, were it not tragically shattered by the gruff rebuttal of their boss._

"_What the hell d' ya mean 'hard work'?" Rebuked a particular timber wolf as he swiveled around to face his two feline compatriots. "I'd hardly call any of this Johnny-on-the-spot-shit work."_

_An uncomfortable silence lingered over the entire table, only disrupted by the low din of conversations emanated from the few other customers within the dimly-lit bar. One could almost hear the ruffle of Miyu's eyebrow as it elevated its position upon her forehead. To everyone who knew her, Miyu was not the type of woman to easily back down from such an obvious provocation._

"_Just what are you tryin' to say, oh fearless leader_?" The feline made sure to adjust the latter part of her inquiry practically into a hiss, glaring towards her teammate with the utmost vexation.

"What I'm sayin' is, that what we're doin' now -all of it- ain't got a damn thing on what we did back in the wars. But I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that, would'cha?" The lupine replied, simultaneously leaning back and setting his booted feet upon the table in an amazingly smug manner. Such a gesture caused the lynx's eyes to narrow, beaming unadulterated hatred towards her arrogant team leader.

Seeing that this situation now stood upon the threshold of violence, the larger of the felines decided to intervene.

"You know, I believe I could go for a bit of fresh air. You could, too." Panther finished his statement by abruptly grabbing hold of his companion and gently dragging her away from the table towards a nearby terrace.

"Heh… some people are just take themselves too damn seriously. Am I right, Leon?" The lupine gestured towards his only remaining comrade, a light green lizard whom had previously been sitting in near complete silence.

Upon mentioning of his name, Leon begrudgingly shifted his focus away from the mindless stabbing of the cooked hunk of meat before him. He stared in blank silence towards his leader for a long moment, seeming on the verge of statement, but never speaking. This strange behavior caused Wolf to shift both his ears and his right eyebrow in anticipation of a response.

The awkward stare-off lasted for several more stretched moments before the lizards right eye independently twitched its view back and forth between Wolf and a vase full of ornamental flowers sitting at the center of the table. Within the blink of an eye, the reptile's tongue extended from his mouth, latching upon a periwinkle flower bud, simultaneously ripping it from it's stem and delivering to the side of his mouth.

"Riiiiiiiight…" The lupine took time to draw out his response in show of his dissatisfaction of his teammate's bizarre action. "I'll just take that as a 'yes'".

* * *

The crisp, dark air of the Cornerian night enveloped the two felines, half-heartedly offering itself as a sacrifice to be shattered upon the altar of argument, a hypothetical area of thought a former boyfriend of Miyu's had once christened "The Killing Zone".

"Just what the HELL is his problem?" The lynx stridently voiced her outrage towards anyone in earshot.

"His problem is that he's Wolf. You knew that when you joined. There is no other real explanation."

"Real explanation? You call that a REAL EXPLAINATION!?!? Well I'm Miyu fuckin' Linx, and does that mean I can go around deriding people like that? I mean, what if I did that to these two losers?" The femme feline finished her line of reasoning by indicating towards a couple of canines occupying the other side of the awning. The two anonymous citizens, formerly engaged within their own conversation, now stared in a state of bewildered outrage towards the two felines.

"Apologies." The larger of two jungle cats began to explain towards Miyu's random victims, as his companion shifted her attention out towards the Cornarian night "She's in a bad mood…"

The two strangers seemed to accept Panther's excuse, shrugging off their insult and returning to their previous discussion.

"Alright, now that was just uncalled for." The larger of the two jungle cats calmly rebuked towards his lover. Miyu's reaction consisted simply of an agitated grunt.

With a sigh of weariness (and a hint of frustration) the jungle cat leaned upon the railing beside his cohort, joining her in the act of starting vacantly out into the night. A length moment of silence passed between the two.

"Do you want to know what I really think is wrong with him? Personal insults aside?" The dark-hued cat once more spoke up, shifting his attention away from the eddying darkness and glimmering lights of nightlife before them.

With a pronounced sigh of her own, Miyu once more directed her line of sight towards her compatriot, promptly lowering her right ear halfway while keeping her left fully erect. To those fluent in Miyuese, such an action usually represented the question 'What'.

"I think he misses Mccloud."

This statement caused the lynx's right eyebrow to shift upwards as far as it could go. A few seconds passed before her mouth gave reason to this action.

"But I thought he hated him?"

"That's what I first presumed." The larger feline went on to explain, taking this time to scoot closer to his female companion. "When I first joined Starwolf… what was that nine… ten years ago? Ah, regardless, when I first joined, it seemed that every spare moment Wolf had was spent either plotting or rambling against Starfox in one way, shape, or form. Now, at first I just when along with it, assuming it was some sort of profession grudge. But after the Anglar War… after you joined… he still kept at it. He'd beaten and humiliated Mccloud in almost every which way, yet he still seemed to have it out for him."

"What about that bitch Krystal? If he really hated Fox, why didn't he keep her around?" Simple mention of the vixen's name produced an air of bitter loathing within Miyu's voice and eyes.

The lynx had despised the blue fox since almost the moment she'd learned of her existence. To Miyu, Krystal appeared to just be some out-of-system alien bimbo with a penchant for using people; the very concept had burnt the feline to the bone with anger. However, that was another stream of thought for another time.

"I think to Wolf… Krystal was… just another opportunity to get at Fox, and when that had run out, there wasn't much of a reason to keep her…" Panthers's explanation slowly began to taper off in volume as old memories began to resurface within him.

He knew he'd been a fool. An arrogant, gullible, damnable fool when it came to the blue vixen. But somewhere, deep in him, there was a small speck of feeling still left for her. What that feeling exactly was became another subject entirely.

"You still think about… her, don't you?" Miyu inquired, a ting of fierce, but controlled jealousy evident in her voice.

"Yes…" The larger of the two felines mumbled, more of a sigh than a statement. "Do you still think of him?"

This query caught Miyu dead in her tracks. Not from surprise, however, but from the fact that this question was a near-revelation to her.

"Y… Yeah…" The feline tentatively responded. Thoughts of a certain vulpine had long haunted the corners and crevices of her mind, as well. The vision of that gentle white and auburn face appeared like some sort of sublime blossoming flower, staring her down with deep green eyes.

This single image invoked in Miyu a warm, fuzzy sensation, yet at the same time brought up bitter feelings of shame. Shame that she still loved two different men on two different sides. Shame that she would never be able to give her whole heart to either. And finally, shame that she had still chosen a side, despite it all.

Slowly, she raised her rapidly blurring vision towards her companion, expecting to be met with a look of either pure shock or pure anger.

What the feline found, however, comprised of neither. Instead, two soft, golden eyes stared calmly at her, practically glowing with empathy, understanding, and the same guilt that now coursed through her.

With the same swiftness as a bolt of lighting, she almost instantly moved to embrace him, resting her head tightly against his shoulder. Her eyes had ceased to water, now relegating themselves to once more stare vacantly out into the darkness.

"I… I'm just so worried about him. What if he's in trouble? What if he's hurt? What if he's… he's…" The lynx cut her statement short as her eyes once more began to moisten at the horrific thought before her. "I just can't fucking stand being so helpless."

"I know, my love… I know…" The larger feline softly spoke, lovingly nuzzling against the top of his companion's head. "All that we can do now… for either of _them_… is hope that they're happy… wherever they are…"

The two stood in this position for what seemed an eternity, connected in their love, shame, and empathy. Around them, the lights and darks of the city continued to swirl.

* * *

Disgust.

Was that the word? No, disgust covered only part of his standpoint towards the denizens of this seething metropolis. Anger, apathy, and maybe a small dab of pity mixed into a single, untitled emotion that played through his mind as he continued to walk on.

He knew, however, that what he felt was a trivial detail. He was a Krazoa; emotions weren't worth a ounce of dust to him. It would be his actions that would speak for him this night, as the Heresiarch, himself, had given the youngling a most distinct… privilege, of sorts.

There was nothing personal held against the rabble around him. No distinct hate. No individual vendetta. They were animals. Nothing more than animals in the woods. They could never know what he knew. They could never understand what the Light had provided his kind. They had to die. Or, "mass euthanasia", as the heretical doctrine termed it.

But I wasn't that simple. If it were, he wouldn't have all the reasons for this flashing through his head like so many still photographs.

Once more, though, what he thought didn't matter. Scipio had asked something important of him, and he would do it. Scipio understood why; why the youngling felt the way he did and why he was about to do what he would. And that's why he followed Scipio.

A few short years of military service with the Krazoan Hierarchy had shown him horrors too brutal to even be the stuff of any sane one's nightmares. War, death, and an vast array of nasties that killed in ways that made anyone feel ill. And he was still only a Neophyte, meaning the worst was yet to come.

But Scipio had seen what the youngling had seen. Scipio had seen even worse, and not only saw it but fought it. Hunted it. Made an existence out of killing it. Scipio had become the thing that could fuck up all the other things that go bump in the night.

Scipio was his hero, and a hero to all the other Krazoa, whether they condoned his recent actions or not. It was because of this that the youngling, along with the rest of the coven, would follow the Heretic the edges of the abyss and farther.

"Neophyte, prepare your weapon." Came a mutter from over his shoulder. Behind him stood an entire platoon of his brethren, all cloaked to appear as an inconspicuous crowd wandering the streets.

Tonight there would be no doubts, no hesitant thoughts, and no sudden falters. His cohorts and he would open a window for the decadent rabble around them; a threshold to the darkest corners of the universe.

Hate. Love. Anger. Joy. Pain. To hell with all that, they were about to learn Fear.

If there was one thing the youngling had learned in his short life, it was that Fear was king.

With a disconcerting air of serenity, the youngling pulled back upon the lever of his weapon.

The cloaked procession suddenly came to a crossroad. Before them stretched a wide, open mall, filled with citizens, shops, cafés and their customers. At the other end of the rectangular plaza stood the Cornerian military's local recruitment and logistics hub. This somewhat imposing compound was among those marked by Scipio, so in the youngling's mind, it was only logical that it had to burn.

A uniformed police officer stood at the street corner, simultaneously directing pedestrians, as well as the occasional low-hover vehicles that passed through. From what the neophyte could see, she appeared to be a leporine, one of the rabbit folk. A pair of long ears poked out from under her helmet, just above a tan-colored face that calmly scanned for trouble. They found it in the form of the hoard of dark, tall figures that slowly began to uncloak and spread out into a line formations.

Her eyes began to swell in disbelief, and a moment later her hand followed suit by reaching towards the grip of her weapon.

Sadly for her, the Neophyte's finger found the trigger first, unleashing a quick barrage of three distinct popping sounds. The leporine's body hit the pavement with a thud, causing a shrill scream to be let out by a nearby onlooker. This event seemed to cue the rest of the heretics to unleash their weapons upon the crowd, as well.

The calm night air was suddenly shattered with the sounds of weapon fire and screaming. Bright violet lines and triplets of green orbs flew in all directions, and soon the ground was covered by a dark red flow.

The Neophyte and his companions suddenly took off towards the towering building before them, almost gliding over the hundreds of bodies left in the plaza, occasionally firing towards any survivors they spotted in the distance.

Two more police darted out of a nearby alleyway, their weapons drawn. This event did not escape the youngling's notice, as he promptly greeted them with two consecutive blasts from his pistol.

The whole world now seemed to be moving in a slow, surreal swirl of blurs, interrupted only buy the occasional shots from his weapon, or the passing vision of a fallen target. Though the back of his conscience screamed at him to stop, the Neophyte was unable to listen. He now felt like he was viewing it all from a distance, or watching someone else perform such grisly deeds in place of himself.

He couldn't remember how he got there (he assumed he had walked, constantly discharging his weapon along the way), but the youngling now found himself barging through the front lobby, popping his pistol at anything that moved.

Out of the swirl of chaos and carnage, he noticed one of his comrade motioning for him to head down a long hallway. This he must of done, as he soon found himself heading up a flight of stairs towards the next floor.

Through yet another hallway he watched himself proceed though the vague haze, running and blasting, unaware as to whether or not he hit anything.

After what seemed an eternity (or an instant, as he had lost almost all sense of time), the youngling soon found himself next to another two of his comrades, kicking open a large wooden door. Almost instantly, a blast rang out as one of his compatriots dropped to the floor.

The perpetrator of this event became evident to the youngling, as he spotted a rather muscular looking bulldog clad in combat armor crouched behind a desk, holding a heavy plasma rifle.

"_Must be the commandant." A voice in the back of the youngling's head stated; he barely noticed though as he raised his weapon to issue a reply, dropping the canine almost instantly._

_An eerie silence followed the thump of the soldier's body as it hit the floor. This quiet only lasted a brief moment, but it was during this time that the world began to come back into focus for the youngling. _

_Details that he had neglected earlier now came to him head-on. The dull brown tint of the walls, the greenish hue of the carpet, the crimson gleam of blood splattered in an almost artistic pattern over the polished wood desk. These facts and many more came rushing into the young Krazoa's consciousness at the same time. The sound of his comrade's voice brought him back to his most familiar reality._

"_Damn. Bastard got Azzan." Mumbled the heretic soldier, whom the youngling turned to find kneeled down next to their fallen cohort. The warrior suddenly raised his head and spoke into his mask._

"_Taskmaster, this is Mykol. Azzan is down, but Edict Three is complete. We're just mopping up now." _

"_Excellent…" Yet another voice floated into the youngling's ear, this time from the com-link build into his mask. "Once the area has been secured, begin completion of Edict Four. Once that is complete, collect Azzan's body and fall back to the departure point."_

"_Understood, Taskmaster. End of message."_

_Not a second had passed before a loud crash caught the attention of both the youngling and his companion. Mykol rose to his feet, his pronged rifle pointed in the direction of the sound._

"_Damnation. Neophyte, investigate that. I'll finish Edict Four." The soldier concluded his statement by quickly walking around to the back of the wooden desk. From his beltline Mykol produced a small metallic half-oval carved into the likeness of a beetle shell. Promptly placing it on the desk next to a built-in keypad, this device caused numerous holo-files to appear above the desktop._

_The youngling stared blankly at all this, half in curiosity, and half in disbelief at his recent actions. Mykol, however, noticed the curiosity bit first._

"_Never you mind what this is, just secure that hallway. Now get to it, Neophyte."_

_Without further ado the youngling made his way back out into the hallway, his mind and body slowly reuniting into one thoroughly shaken entity._

_While the world as a whole retained a slightly surreal, almost artificial feel to him, the youngling observed that this was especially true for the corridor he found himself cautiously patrolling down. Barely a minute had past since he'd last ventured down it, but the hallway now seemed as unfamiliar a place as possible._

_Where once was a dynamic office now sat a forsaken tomb. Numerous weapon-riddled corpses peppered the floor, illuminated by flickering electric lights that vomited sparks in apparent reaction to this most horrid of scenes. The neophyte morbidly counted about eight bodies, but there were probably more, hidden behind upturned desks, chairs, office dividers and other various workplace furniture. _

_Timidly the youngling made his way across the small necropolis he had so recently created, weapon raised in constant vigil against the ever-present specter of death. At any second a surviving Cornerian could pop out of nowhere, blast through his light shields and armor, dealing unto him the same fate as Azzan. _

_Or, perhaps he would act first, adding yet another to his roster of victims. The neophyte remained unsure of just how many he had hit during his shooting spree, but his blood-encrusted boots stood as a macabre indicator that the number was likely high._

_As this fact played over and over again in his mind, a sick nauseous sensation began to churn within his bowels, as well as the dark confines of his shattered psyche._

_Little time was allotted to dwell on this feeling, however, as the neophyte found himself nearing the end of his scan of the room. Before him lay a single door leading to a custodial closet, which he wasted no time in bashing down via his armored boot._

_From the dark interior of the room erupted a shrill scream, almost knocking the youngling off his guard. He had always despised screaming, and to say that the nights events didn't help would have been the harshest understatement ever to sting his hearing._

_The source of this shriek soon made itself clear to him: a young poodle sat cowering on the floor towards the rear of the closet. Almost automatically the neophyte raised his weapon, and the world once more slowed around him._

_A single decision suddenly confronted him, perhaps the most detestable he had ever laid thought upon in all of his short, violent life._

_Scipio and his other commanders had given the neophyte a direct order; Edict Three: Termination of all personnel within the logistical hub. So far, he had complied with this order to the best of his knowledge and abilities. Why stop at some hapless secretary in a closet?_

_But the youngling's conscience presented a different take. The childish canine in the closet shook with fear, tears now visibly streaming down her face as she occasionally glance up towards her imminent demise._

_Every last detail of this felt irrevocably amoral to the young Krazoa. His conscience continued to invoke him to drop his weapon and simply walk away from the atrocity that he had committed, while he still possessed the chance. It had barely been two years ago that he had joined the Hierarchy with aspirations of saving innocent lives, not taking them. _

_Much had changed in those two short years, however. His experiences had shown him just how dark the universe truly was, and he now doubted the existence of such naïve concepts like "innocence"._

_But she WAS innocent, or at least the closest thing to innocent he had ever seen. She was young, almost as young as him, and the look of fear in her eyes plucked heavily at as many of his heart-strings as it could find. She didn't deserve to die like this. Not in some dingy closet. Not from a weapon shot. Not that young._

_But it was too late to stop. He had already killed so many. He had already followed his orders to the letter up to this point. All that hung in question was whether or not he'd earn the respect of Scipio and the coven. If he quit now, he'd still be a murderer, just a murderer without any value to the rest of the Heretics, or the rest of the universe._

_His arm quivered in hesitation, but his finger made the decision for him. That all-too-familiar trio of pops rang out, and the floor of the closet was soon splattered in blood._

_Upon lowering his weapon, regret instantly struck, sinking it's fangs deep into his mind and soul, turning his insides into acidic mush._

_The youngling stared down at the corpse before him. In some demented manner, she was still beautiful. Soft white fur now so elegantly soaked in crimson. So young. So tragic. Just like him. _

_The neophyte quickly turned away, seeking escape from the haunting sight before him. Any trace of solace was shattered from his mind by the spectacle behind him. _

_There lay the corpse of yet another canine, a bulldog this time, his shirt and brown coat stained in red, his dark lifeless eyes staring up at the youngling, piercing deep into his soul._

_The feeling of nausea that he had formerly felt now returned in force, tossing his insides about as if in an endless see of regret and guilt. The youngling quickly lifted his mask halfway up and bent forward, a putrid stream of vomit rocketing out of his maw towards the floor below. _

_After a short moment the youngling's internal violence came to an abrupt end. A cold, numb sensation now engulfed his entire body, inside and out. All of existence suddenly came to a dark, strangely serine clarity for the Neophyte. No warmth. No sadness. No regret. No good or evil. Just the morbidly plain grayness that trickled down the edges of his own little reality. _

_For whatever minuscule importance it was worth, he was gonna be a full-blown Krazoan Heretic now._


End file.
